


Forge of Aradia

by WordsmithMusings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Mythology, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Hermione Granger, Dark, Daughters of Vega, Desterrados Maxia, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, POV Draco Malfoy, Pain, Ritual Magic, Soulmate AU, TheMourningMadam's Where Gods Dwell Dramione Fest, Weasley Family Bashing (Harry Potter), love potion/spell abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22273360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsmithMusings/pseuds/WordsmithMusings
Summary: A dark and angst-filled twist on the story of Pygmalion and Galatea - an enchanting myth about a sculptor who fell in love with his own sculpture and prayed to the goddess Aphrodite to bring it to life. Only here the sculptor is Draco Malfoy, his hands are guided by his three best friends, Hermione Granger is in an abusive marriage with Ronald Weasley, and the Goddess Aradia hears their cries.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson & Blaise Zabini & Theo Nott, Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Comments: 66
Kudos: 165
Collections: Where Gods Dwell: A Dramione Fest





	1. Trial

**Author's Note:**

> *** This is a dark fic. Please read the tags, and be prepared for more to be added. This fic is rated for explicit language, angst, themes of violence, bad self coping methods, threats against others' lives, dubious consent, and Weasley Bashing, amongst other things. ***
> 
> Thank you to **the Mourning Madam** for hosting this fest. Thank you to **PotionChemist** for listening to my ideas, and epic beta skills. And thank you to **EscapingArtist** for being my favorite emotional support trellis. 
> 
> Blanket disclaimer for the entire piece: I am not JKR. I do not own HP. Nor do I own the original myth, and anything else you recognize. Mistakes are mine and the plot is as well. 
> 
> Happy reading loves,  
> xx

###  ****

_Manip by NuclearNik_

###  **(i) trial**

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are hereby sentenced to 6 months in Azkaban, stripped of your title, and half of your family's remaining net worth. Your wand will be snapped, and you will not be able to apply for another in the UK until all conditions of your sentencing have been fulfilled. After your stay in Azkaban, you will be escorted out of the country to the country of your choice. You will be unable to return to the UK, for any reason, for the following ten years. After which time, if you have proven yourself to be a worthwhile member of society, you will be allowed to return to Britain and apply to have your title, membership to the Wizengamot and wand reinstated. We have spoken."

The thud of the gavel hitting the table in front of Kingsley Shacklebolt, newly appointed Minister of Magic, sounded in Draco's ears with a definitive roar. The courtroom around him descended into chaos as his punishment, one of the harshest remanded, came down. Draco was vaguely aware of his mother crying and shouts of injustice and protests- though why anyone besides his mother would care about his fate was beyond him.

Draco was hoisted from the chair by two Aurors and set on his feet. "Walk," one of them grunted near his ear and Draco did so. Or as much as he could with the myriad of heavy chains that were draped across his body and bound his hands and feet together. Really, what he managed was more of a shamble or shuffle than actually walking. Yet another indignity for a man used to strutting with power.

"It's not right, Ronald. That's why."

He heard the words spoken in a hushed voice to his left, and despite his brain’s admittent wishes, he turned to see the owner of the voice. The voice he would recognize anywhere. The voice that should've been drowned out by all the other sounds in the courtroom. Why his eyes knew just where to look, he'd never know, but they did. He sucked in his breath as he saw her. Hair crackling with magic, body bound tight with fury. Those furious brown eyes snapped to his and he saw it then, the moment of softness in her whiskey eyes. Not pity like so many others had for him, but genuine sorrow. "I'm sorry," she mouthed to him. He wanted to respond, he did, but he found he couldn't be bothered. And so he shrugged, and returned his attention to the floor and concentrated on shuffling to the door and to the next chapter of his life. His shit ass life.


	2. Time's Up

###  **(ii) time's up**

Draco stretched his arms above his head. Absently he rubbed his wrists, free from the heavy chains spelled to control any use of magic for the last six months. He patiently ignored the Auror who delighted in snapping his wand in front of his face, and kept his face patently bored, his Malfoy training ensuring that absolutely nothing showed on his face but mild disdain for the man in front of him. 

Though the clothes he was wearing hung from his gaunt frame, Draco still carried himself with the same level of dignity he always did in public. He was free from that hell hole and absolutely nothing was going to deter his mood today. Not even seeing WonderBoy suddenly walk in to the room he was in at the Ministry.

"Martin, I've got a visitor for the prisoner. I'll take over for a few minutes."

"He’s not authorized any visitors, Sir."

"Martin, I'm the Head Auror. If I say he has a visitor, then he has a visitor. Now go take a smoke break. I'll see to the visitor and escort him personally to the portkey office."

"Yes sir, Head Auror Potter."

Draco watched the other man leave, ignoring the glare of hatred the Auror threw at him. He didn’t even know Martin, had never seen him before, not that it mattered. He was a Malfoy and thus hated. Draco shrugged mentally, shuffling his thoughts into a box and locking them away as he stared at the nails on his hands.

Out the corner of his eye, Draco was vaguely aware of movement, of Potter opening the door, whispering in harsh tones to someone, and then closing it.

"Listen, Malfoy, I wouldn't normally do this. It's not a favor to you. It's a favor to her. Just…" his words trailed off as he raked his hands through his already ruffled hair. "You got a shit deal. Your punishment was one of the harshest delivered and it was disproportionate to your crimes. We've tried appealing it, but it seems that there's not so much that can be done at the moment."

"Not even by the Head Auror? Bit much to give the job to an 18 year old, don’t you think?"

Harry gave a bit of a chuckle. "You're not the only one to feel that way, believe me. It's not something I wanted or asked for. But try explaining that to anyone around here. Just cause I killed Riddle doesn’t make me qualified-"

"Something we agree upon. Especially since that position requires quite a bit of brains and planning. Not really your job description."

A smile broke across Harry's face, "No, I definitely wasn’t the brains of this operation, and she wouldn't argue with either of us on this. It’s temporary-" Draco snorted. "It is. It’s temporary. Once all this dies down, I'll be able to step down and someone else can be in charge."

"Keep telling yourself that, Potter."

Harry raked his hand through his hair again. "Look. Just. Be nice. I couldn’t stop her from trying to talk to you, but I swear to Merlin if you make her cry-"

"Why would I make my own mother cry, Potter?"

"Your mother," realization dawned on Harry's face. "Draco, I'm sorry. It's… fuck. No one’s told you."

"Told me what? Where is my mother, Potter?"

The look of pity that crossed Harry’s face was all he needed to know. Harry opened his mouth to speak and Draco held his hand up to cut him off. "DON'T."

Harry nodded. "For what it’s worth, I'm sorry, Malfoy." A knock sounded at the door. "Just remember what I said."

Draco didn't bother looking up. Didn’t bother acknowledging the door opening and the other person walking in. He didn't have to look to know it was her. The smell of honeysuckle and lavender preceded her. Draco didn’t know why it felt like a punch to his gut to see her sitting there in front of him. She looked so different. So wrong under the lights of this place. Her goodness rolling off her in waves, her warmth in stark contrast to the cold sterile room they're in.

She was studying him, her gaze intense and inquisitive. He fucking hated it. Hated that she was here. Hated that his mother was dead. Hated that he wasn’t dead, too.

"Out with it, Granger," he spat. "We’re on the clock."

Hermione didn’t flinch at the ice in his tone. "How are you, Malfoy?"

Draco scoffed. "Why I'm just peachy, Granger. Thanks for asking. I've just gotten out of a hellhole guarded by soul sucking monsters and assholes who don’t give a shit about anything except you not dying on their watch - too much paperwork."

"At least you’re not dead," she offered hopefully.

"I might as well be Granger."

There was no bitterness in his words. Just resignation. A level of defeat and vulnerability he hadn't meant to share.

"I’m sorry," she replied softly, her hand extending to lay on his. Her touch was kind. Warm. Soft. All the things she was and Draco couldn’t stand it. He slipped his hand from hers.

"Don’t. Just don’t, Granger. I don’t want your pity."

"Draco-"

"Don’t. Gods, Granger. Just... not everyone needs you to save them!"

"You could say thank you," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"For what? For not being dead? Do you really think this punishment is better than being dead!" She flinched then - whether it was from his words or the fact that he was almost screaming at her, he couldn’t tell. "What are you looking for, Granger? Needed a pureblood life debt? Wanted to make yourself feel better? Need another headline or moniker to add to your name? Not satisfied with Brightest Witch of Our Age? Goody Granger saves the day."

"No."

"Then what!"

"Because you were just a kid, Draco!" She was yelling at him now, her hair growing with her anger, crackling as it always did when she was upset. He hated himself for finding her fucking beautiful at that moment, with that fire in her eyes and her chest rising and falling heavily. There was a special place in hell, he decided at that moment, reserved just for him. There had to be. "You are being punished unjustly for your actions. They're using you as an example and it's wrong. The cost is too high. It's not fair, Draco!"

"Fucking Gryffindors," he grumbled, but his heart wasn’t in it. He smiled softly at her. He couldn’t help himself. Granger had this effect on him from time to time. 

Draco saw her soften, and then deflate, "You’re not this person."

"How would you know what kind of person I am, Granger?" he scoffed in return, his smile fading quickly as he desperately fought to return his mask of indifference. "You don’t know me. Don’t pretend to."

"Fine," she exclaimed sweeping back from the table, her chair falling back in her rush. "Goodbye then."

Draco grunted in acknowledgement as she made to leave. He could see her in his periphery, hesitating at the door. He stared at a spot on the table in vain, determined to ignore her.

"Draco?" There was something in her tone, in the way her voice shaped around his name that made him look up from the table to see her at the door. She was biting her lip the way she did when she thought, when she was unsure of what to do next.

"Dementor got your tongue, Granger?" He had to fall back on being snarky. It was his last defense against the hope he felt deep in his soul whenever she was near him.

Hermione met his gaze, and he saw pain flash there before her eyes softened. It wasn’t pity, he realized, but something else. Sadness, perhaps. It was gone before he could dwell on it much longer as her eyes drifted to the floor momentarily. He could tell she was preparing herself mentally for whatever it was that she wanted to say. Draco wanted to make a comment, say something snarky and rude to hurt her, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do it. Not if this was the last time he would ever see her. She squared her shoulders, her mind made up, and he spied the steel of defiance and strength in her chocolate eyes when she finally met his eyes again. “I forgive you Draco. For everything. I know it doesn’t help, but you didn’t deserve this.”

The words roared around in his mind, ringing louder than that fucking gavel six months ago, and for the first time since he was eight years old, Draco’s power flared in a show of accidental magic that splintered the table in front of him and turned the chair she had been sitting in to ash.

That was how Harry Potter found him five minutes later. Everything was a blur though to Draco at that point. He didn’t care. She forgave him. What the fuck was wrong with her?

He was vaguely aware of Potter leading him from the room, of having a Portkey pressed into his hands. Of Potter saying goodbye and telling him to take care, and that familiar pull on his navel he hated so much.

He sucked in air as he landed with a thud.

"Well, that was graceful."

"Fuck off."

"Come on then, Drake. Up you get."

He was slightly aware of the familiarity of the hands that grasped him by the elbows and lifted him up. His gaze fell in turn on eyes he recognized intimately - all of them brown and all of them understanding. 

"What the fuck are you lot doing here?" he grumbled.

"We’re here for you obviously, Drake," came the bored voice of Pansy Parkinson. 

"You didn't expect us to leave you to rot, did you?" added his oldest friend, Theo Nott. 

He felt a clap on his shoulder and turned to his best friend. "Welcome to Italy, Mate. Let's go get you pissed."

Draco nodded helplessly at Blaise, tears threatening his eyes. "Hold it together for three minutes, mate. It's all we need to get clear of here."

Draco felt their magic wrapping around him, protecting him and strengthening him. It was what they had done in 6th year. It was how he survived then, and he knew how he would survive now. His mask of indifference was already sliding into place as he allowed them to steer him out of the international portkey room in Italy's Ministry of Magic. They'd already filled out his paperwork, bribed people as necessary. They’d done everything they could to shield him. To anyone who noticed them, they were nothing more than a bunch of bored pureblood socialites making their way through for vacation.

It took them 2 minutes and 17 seconds to clear the Ministry's wards and another 15 seconds to make it to the Apparition point. Draco said nothing as Blaise placed his arm around his shoulders to take him side-along. 

The moment his feet landed, Draco felt the familiar comfort of Blaise's war wards crashing down around them. Safe. He was finally safe. There’s nothing to stop the tears falling down his cheeks then, and when the darkness swallowed him up, Draco knew despite it all, that it wouldn’t be the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thanks again to the Mourning Madam, Potion Chemist, and EscapingArtist. xx


	3. Italy

###  **(iii) Italy**

Draco’s first year in Italy was spent at the bottom of a bottle, getting into physical fights with Theo — who was the only one who’d fight back — and fucking. Or being fucked if Theo was involved. Draco didn’t really care, though. As long as it wasn’t Pansy. Pansy who wanted tender and familiar and awkward like teenagers. Occasionally, Draco would give into her. He did love Pansy as a friend. He couldn’t marry her, but a hole was a hole to him at this point. She didn’t take it personally. Theo was good when Draco needed to be dominated, when he needed to feel without feeling. 

And Blaise. Blaise was a lothario, as happy to fuck Draco as he was to take him out to the bar to be his wingman. Really, they were all just a bunch of pureblood degenerates for a few months, and it suited Draco just fine.

Until the day that Blaise had enough. It had happened by accident. In a fit of drunken rage, Draco threw several of Blaise’s family heirlooms across the room, shattering them into millions of little pieces. It was remarkably satisfying to Draco, and he didn’t give two shits what Blaise felt about it. Until the moment that he was hanging by his ankles in the center of the room with a livid Blaise under him.

“You better fucking replace those. you selfish prick.”

Draco waved his hand at him. “You know how to get to my money. Just buy whatever you want.”

“You know what? I want you to MAKE me new ones.”

“You want me to what?”

On the other side of the room, Theo flicked his wand, fixing all the broken vases and knickknacks. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea,” declared Draco, spinning in the air. “Oi! Fuck face, put me down before I vomit all over your precious rug.”

Draco landed in an inelegant heap in the middle of the floor, vomit threatening to make an appearance as he gasped for air. “Fucking hell, Blaise.”

“So what’ll it be, Blondie? Glass? Clay? There are creatives everywhere, surely you can figure out something to do with your bored ass.”

“I’m not bored.”

The scoff that reached his ears was loud and echoed around the room. “Well, I guess that means Theodore can go with you.”

“Fine. How hard can it be!”

So it began. They terrorized the local economy in search of masters willing to teach them the finer crafts of Italian artisans.

It turned out that they were wrong - it was hard. Very hard.

However, the challenge thrilled Draco. He fucking relished in it, much to his friends’ horror.

First up was pottery. Throwing clay was fun, but not Draco’s thing. He didn’t mind the way it felt in his hands, but the pieces always collapsed. 

“And how many fucking vases can you have anyways, Blaise?!” he yelled at him as he chucked a piece of clay at his head at the end of yet another failed attempt.

Glass blowing was next, and this was even less Draco’s thing. He didn’t mind the heat, but he didn’t realize it required an entire host of people to blow glass. “I mean theres are like 12 people that have to be involved. Blaise, and you’re blowing into a pipe with strangers. If I’m going to be blowing on someone’s pipe, I better be getting high or laid.”

Draco ended up buying a dozen pieces for Blaise’s house from that master though, because he thought the end results were fucking gorgeous. But he couldn’t be responsible for making them himself. “With a TEAM, Blaise.”

They tried acrylic painting and then watercolor painting. Venetian glass making - because apparently torturing Draco once wasn’t enough. Free form pottery. Jewelry making. Pansy tried to get them to sit through a lace making class, but creating doilies was something that went over just as badly as blowing other people’s pipes.

It was Theo that finally found the winner, almost six months later, after a late morning walk through a sculpture garden in Florence. It was love at first sight for Draco, and he immediately began harassing all his friends to find him a Bronze Sculpting Master. “Cause that’s not a fucking mouthful,” groaned Blaise as he watched his friend bounce from the room, a spring in his step for the first time in 18 months.

Within a month, they finally found the owner of the garden, who agreed, for a small fee, to put them in touch with the artist responsible for the majority of the sculptures in the garden. The artist was a taciturn old bastard name Petra that immediately decided these four kids were his new grandkids. Pansy couldn’t figure out how she got lumped in with them, but that was just how it went. Petra was as stubborn and unrelenting as any of them and to him it was all or nothing - so Pansy sat in the corner, surrounded by magazines and taking random notes of the ridiculously long process involved in making bronze sculptures. Blaise was surprisingly good at some of the steps, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

(What Blaise didn't tell anyone, though, was that he could see a lucrative business opportunity looming in their future. So he paid attention, because he knew that if anyone was going to be selling this shit, it was going to be him. “And let’s face it, I can charm anyone.”) 

Theo loved the bronze part - the actual heating of the material to 2250 degrees, the way the metal melted and changed and cooled once in the molds. Sure, you could do it all by yourself, but he knew in his head he could help Draco with this part — Draco wouldn’t turn him away or say no.

Draco couldn’t have cared less about any of their antics. He was transfixed. For the next two years, Draco spent every waking moment in Petra's studio. Sweating. Swearing. Learning to sculpt. The clay felt like magic in his hands. He preferred the control of it to throwing on a wheel. He liked that he could make ANYTHING he chose to and didn’t have the limitations that a wheel offered. He sculpted mermaids and dragons and centaurs. He made witches and brooms and women dancing naked under full moons. He learned how to work in scale and use armature for movement. He was great at it. 

Making a mold out of latex fascinated him almost as much as carving did. He wasn’t patient, so waiting for things to dry drove him crazy, but Petra showed him how he could move from sculpture to sculpture through the different stages so that he was always busy. Always moving. It was a comfort, a distraction, and Draco was thriving on it. 

Replacing the latex mold with a wax copy. Removing the lost wax. Creating the shell. Finally preparing the bronze itself. The liquid metal reminding him of making a potion, and he admitted he was as fascinated by it as Theo. Theo happily assisted him with the pouring, and the two men were like kids in a candy store when the time finally came to break the molds open once the metal had cooled and hardened. 

The sandblasting to finish a piece was actually something that Blaise excelled at, and Pansy was suddenly very attentive when it came to picking the Patina colors. The entire process of mixing chemicals to create an unexpected finish sparked an interest in her for the first time in the myriad of steps. 

The finished product was, for lack of a better word, breathtaking.

And just like that, bronze sculpting became Draco’s new obsession. To say thank you to his friends, he presented Pansy and Theo each with a figure - a unicorn for Pansy and a dragon for Theo. He presented Blaise with a mountain troll, and after the man stopped grumbling, Draco gifted him with more than a dozen new pieces to replace the ones he had broken - even if Theo fixed them all. 

On Draco’s 24th birthday, Blaise, Theo and Pansy presented him with a set of keys and lead him down a quiet alley not far from Blaise’s chateau in Florence. 

“What’s this?”

“Go on.”

They were smiling and it annoyed Draco slightly to see them all so pleased with themselves. He unlocked the door and found himself in a studio. 

“It’s yours.”

For the first time in the better part of two years, Draco could honestly say that he felt real joy. 

Draco grabbed Theo and immediately began to work. Pansy and Blaise, however, set about on a plan of their own - to create a showroom and successful business. 

Word spread quickly about a new artisan in Florence. A man that called himself Hephaestus and was the master craftsman at Black Star Forge. He signed each collection with a constellation or a single star. And his collections were filled with pieces made of whimsy and fantasy. Mythological creatures mixed with Greek and Italian Gods and Goddesses. His showroom was a marvel, and his salesman pitched his works up and down Italy. It wasn’t long before they were garnering international attention.

And, just like that, seven years into Draco’s exile, he was an international success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Continued thanks to the Mourning Madam, PotionChemist, and EscapingArtist. xx


	4. Discovery

###  **_(iv) discovery_ **

Through the years, in the midst of Draco’s pain and angst, he had felt a constant underlying hum. It wasn’t his magic, the rich coolness of which had been part of his life for as long as he could remember. Instead it was a warmth — a fire that sometimes blazed so hot it felt like Fiendfyre was running through his veins. At other times, it felt like coals simmering, turning almost to ash before they would flare again. There were random thoughts, desires and even searing pain that would accompany the blazing of this warmth inside him. They would range from persistent and burning to barely a dull hum. At its worst, it felt like the time he burnt his hand on one of his Godfather’s cauldron fires, and at its faintest, like the time he stubbed his toe — it was irritating for a moment but would be fleeting. 

Occasionally, pure unadulterated feelings of bliss accompanied the fire he felt — the kind that made him think of sipping hot chocolate by a fire at the end of a long day. He wished he could capture that feeling in a bottle and apply it to his daily life. But the feelings of pain, the stabbing persistent ache — those days he could do without. As if his own suffering wasn’t enough. This pain nagged at him and had only grown worse in the last few years. At first, Draco wasn’t sure why.

He had found himself in Italy. Found his purpose so to speak, and he was thriving. He still drank more than he should and fucked when the mood struck. The physical fighting with Theo had greatly subsided since he had opened Black Star, but the warmth and pain persisted. 

It wasn’t until his 25th birthday, when an elf appeared with a letter that he finally started to put the pieces together. While the Ministry had taken half his family’s fortune, there were things they could not get their hands. His family’s library at the Manor and all the elves tethered to his family amongst them. Draco hadn’t expected to see Galrey sitting at the end of his bed. The most senior of all the Malfoy elves, Galrey was more than 100 years old and wore a carefully tailored tunic in Black with the Malfoy crest carefully stitched in silver at its center.    
  
“Good morning, Master Draco. I be bringing you your birthday present from Lady.” 

Draco’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Good morning, Galrey. It’s nice to see you.”

“You be drinking too much for Galrey to say the same to you, Master Draco.”

Draco chuckled despite himself. “I’ve missed you, Galrey.”

“The young master has neglected his duty.” insisted the old elf, extending his hand to give him a single piece of parchment. “Galrey be waiting until you is old enough to take your birthright.”

“And that’s today is it?” asked Draco, uncertainty coursing through his veins as he accepted the letter.

“That be today, yes.”

Draco sighed. “Alright then. I don’t suppose this responsibility includes breakfast and a hangover potion does it?”

“I suppose Galrey can be asking Tobky to be making your favorite and bringing you something for yous head. Yous gonna need it after Lady finished.” He tapped the letter pointedly and disappeared with a small crack

“Lovely,” grumbled Draco. “Better get it over with”

_ My dearest Draco, _

_ Happy Birthday, my dragon. Words cannot tell you how very proud I am of you, how proud I have always been of you. I know that this may letter may come as some surprise for you, it is certainly something I wish I could deliver to you myself, but if you are receiving it, it means that life has continued to be unjust and we have been separated far sooner than I would’ve wished. _

_ Whatever happened, my dragon, know that I am reunited with my love and that we are content in the next chapter. My only sorrow is how we failed you in this life and did not prepare you for what you will face.  _

_ When you were ten years old, we went to the park for your birthday. There you met a curious soul who sparked something deep within you. You called it fire. It took us months to track her down, figure it out, and verify the truth of who she was. But once we did, there was no denying it. Against, my wishes, your father chose not to tell you about her, opting instead to Obliviate her, her family and you, erasing every moment, feeling and encounter.  _

_ Yet another way we failed you, I’m afraid, my dragon — because Obliviation didn’t work.  _

_ You wrote letters home from Hogwarts about this fire you felt inside — an odd stirring. Times it would flare, times it would burn, times it would soothe. It was both a comfort and a constant source of worry for me. Your father had made commitments that needed to be kept and he could only protect you and I, and so he continued to lace your letters with compulsion charms, plant seeds of doubt. In short, he did everything he could short of using the Imperius Curse to keep you from noticing the source of this fire. It didn’t always work, but with the use of the Black and Malfoy magics and rituals, he was able to obscure the depth of her true identity from you.  _

_ I wish he hadn’t. I wish life had been different. I wish that in this lifetime, you had been able to know her and grow up with her and love her properly. I wish that I would’ve been able to secure that happiness and that universal longing we all have to love and be loved in return for you.  _

_ Since life isn’t fair, and we are no longer there to impede you, all I can do is offer you this ritual. You may not even need it to put all the pieces together, but should you be in a place where you can not think clearly, I have left this for you.  _

_ May the magick guide you to that which you need, and may you find the source of the fire that has long lain dormant within you.  _

_ Until we meet again my beloved dragon, _

_ Love always, _

_ Mother _

Draco reread the words and after the third go round, leaned over his bed and vomited. Despite the years that had passed, his grief from his mother's murder always lay just below the surface and seeing her handwriting, reading her words of love, on his birthday of all days, opened the old wound. "Fuck me," grumbled Draco. "I'm gonna need more alcohol for this."

“Galrey not appreciate having to clean up sick on first day back, Master Draco,” the tiny elf admonished as it arrived a moment later, vanishing Draco’s vomit with a snap of his fingers.

Wiping the back of his mouth before accepting the glass of water Galrey conjured for him, Draco grunted, “Thanks.” 

“Wes prepare you for ritual, Master Draco. You drink these. The cisterns and robes be ready in the family circle.”

“I’m not allowed back in England yet.”

“Galrey be knowing this sir. Galrey and other elves prepare the family circle here in Italy. You be wanting Master Theo or Master Blaise to comes?”

Draco paused for a moment, wondering how many times his friends had been Obliviated as well. Knowing that his father was involved and it had started with his tenth birthday, Draco opted to bring Theo with him to fuel the circle with extra magic if need be and to keep him safe. Gods only knows what he’d figure out. 

  
  


It didn't take much to convince Theo to join him for the ritual. Ritual magic was something they were both familiar with — they had been raised together as the only heirs to Pureblood thrones, trained since infancy for the roles they were born to play. Theo also had a fascination with runes, the war and subsequent death of his father before they all chose exile in Italy being the only things that kept him from pursuing the mastery.

They gave themselves a few hours to study the ritual and the space, each opting for a Pepper-Up Potion to bolster their strength. 

"You sure you want to do this?" asked Theo.

"Yeah. I… I need to know."

"But you already have an idea, don’t you?"

Draco nodded. He did have an idea already. Well, more than an idea. He was fairly certain he already knew what the ritual would reveal. There were too many details, too many things that just made sense, but he needed to be sure. Wanted to be sure more than anything. The pain he felt when the fire raged inside him — Draco knew in his heart that it meant she was in pain, and if she was in pain... Anger bubbled inside him. There wasn’t much he could do at the moment, but… Draco sighed, his thoughts swirling. His hands would be tied, and he would be more fucked than he already was. 

He met Theo’s eyes and nodded. They’d sort it all out on the other side.

Draco took a deep breath and walked into the circle dressed only in his ritual robe, the runes that Theo had carved into the floor of the ritual space lighting up as he crossed each one. Outside the space, Theo drew his wand, casting a protection spell, and felt the thread of his magic pulled into the center. Draco wove Theo’s magic into his own and steadied himself with another calming breath in and out. 

“May Lady Magic bless our endeavor and guide our hands today.”

Twenty-five minutes later, both men sank to their knees, the ritual circle finally closed. Draco took in a ragged breath, his body more winded than he ever could’ve anticipated. Looking across the circle, he met Theo’s eyes.

Theo looked as exhausted as he felt, but there was something much deeper there - anger and despair, visible in his aura. The normally hardened wizard had tears in his eyes. 

“Drake,” began Theo. 

“We knew it was her,” he grunted from within the circle, trying to stand.

“Yes, but-”

“Don’t, Theo. She’s married.”

“You know that doesn’t mean anything with soulmates.”

Draco nodded. He did know that. He did, but he didn’t want to come between her and her husband. If she was happy, he wouldn’t interfere. 

“And if she’s unhappy?” Draco met Theo’s eyes across the space. Apparently he had said that last bit aloud. 

“I guess we’ll never know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks to Mourning Madam for hosting this fest. PotionChemist for listening to my ideas, and epic beta skills. And thank you to EscapingArtist for being my favorite emotional support trellis.


	5. Plotting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned this was a dark fic right? With elements of mentioned abuse, dub-con and abuse of spells and potions? I'd apologize but... dark, and angst. Mind the tags. 
> 
> Happy reading, and sorry not sorry. #buckleup

###  **_(v) plotting_ **

Draco and Theo were in the midst of a large pour when the bell sounds. Theo flicked his wrist towards a screen, but maintained his focus. Draco didn’t even look up from his task, the magic in the room humming around them as they continued, neither man willing to interrupt the process at this stage. 

Pansy’s voice buzzed through the screen, the magic distorting it only slightly, “Yes, the artist is in, but he’s in the midst of a large piece. He can’t be disturbed.” 

Draco snorted at her words, yes, he can’t be disturbed which is why he she buzzed him. Across from him Theo chuckled, his thoughts obviously moving in the same direction.

“Do you take commissions?” Draco’s head twitched slightly at the sound of the other voice. It was also female, a British accent clear and a bit less posh than Pansy’s, but full of the richness of London he hadn’t heard in sometime.

“We do, depending on the artist’s mood, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” mocked Theo and Draco closed his eyes for a moment so as not to fuck up the pour as he laughed at his friend. 

“These are really lovely,” the voice wrapped around Draco like silk and he shivered visibly.

“Alright there, mate?” asked Theo.

“Yeah,” Draco eyed the communicator screen on the wall. The spell in the book Pansy’s has sitting on the counter acting as the receiver in the showroom. 

“Feel free to look around,” he heard Pansy say and a vague response is muffled as the female patron wandered away from the counter. 

A disembodied variation of Pansy’s voice suddenly fills the air. “You are going to wrap up whatever the fuck you’re doing.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “What could possibly be so important?” 

Draco shrugged. The communicator spell they used was generally for emergencies. Pansy normally only used it if she felt unsafe in the shop with whoever was in it. The magic was tricky, but really a thing of beauty created specifically for their shop using Pansy’s charm work and Theo’s runes. All Pansy had to do was activate a rune in the ledger, and whatever was happening in the shop was transmitted to them in the backroom. When she wrote with a charmed pen in the same book, her words would translate to them. 

There was the distinct sound of movement, and the voice spoke again, “Is the artist available to meet?”

“Why would you want to meet the artist? You don’t strike me as a fan of his.” Pansy’s tone was dismissive, and Draco bit back a snort. 

“I’d like to discuss a commission.” the voice was soft, hopeful even, and Draco could sense whoever it was was wandering around the shop as they spoke to Pansy.

“It’s doubtful.”

“Blaise will love to hear she’s turning business away,” muttered Theo as they reached the end of the pour. Draco huffed but said nothing else. His mind reeling as he continued to process the voice with Pansy’s.

“What would you want if he was available?”

“An animal. Bigger than these, but not quite life size.”

“What kind of animal?”

“An otter perhaps?”

Draco’s eyes widened slightly.

“Not really his style.”

“Yes, I noticed he seems to rather enjoy myths and fantasies. It’s a shame, though. I’d love to tell him how beautiful I think his work is.”

“I’ll be sure to pass it along.” 

Draco snorted. The finality in Pansy’s voice was unmistakable. He considered ending the transmission. Pansy was obviously fine. Just as he reached his hand out to cast the wandless charm to sever the communication he heard it.

“Thank you, Pansy.”

Draco’s eyes snapped to Theo’s. They didn’t use their names in the shop. They had made the decision when Draco had decided to go by Hephaestus. Pansy was known as Hebe in the shop — it was how she introduced herself to every customer that walked through the door. They heard Pansy’s mouth snap shut and then a deep sigh before her voice came across again clearly, “I wasn’t sure you’d recognize me.”

“You’re hard to forget.” There was a smugness, a swottiness. 

Draco met Theo’s eyes. Was it possible? It wasn’t, was it?

“Lucky me.”

“The nose is different, though.”

“Yes. well. I couldn’t be a pig-nosed pug forever, now could i?”

“I always thought you were lovely.”

“I... thank you, Granger.” Draco dropped his tool and looked to Theo; their eyes both widened in shock. 

“What the fuck?” he mouthed to Draco. Draco shook his head.

“You’re welcome, Pansy.”

“Are you fuckers coming out here or what?” rang Pansy’s disembodied voice. 

Theo cleared his throat. “Yeah, we’re coming.” He turned to Draco. “It was bound to happen, mate.”

Draco nodded. It was bound to happen. He knew the Golden Trio was in Italy — it had been in the papers. Hermione and Harry both still worked for the British Ministry of Magic and were at a conference with the International Confederation of Wizards. Ron had taken a position with the Chudley Cannons and had an international exhibition match with the Italian National team in Florence that weekend. It was a longshot that they would step into their shop — it was set in the muggle side of Florence. 

And yet, here she was. 

“Go ahead, Drake. I’ll clean up. Go see her.” 

Nodding at his friend, Draco waved his hand absently at his clothes , clearing the soot and dirt from them. He debated leaving his apron on for a minute before deciding to remove it and hang it on the peg by the door, leaving him in his day-to-day uniform of dark jeans, dragonhide boots, and black henley. Running his hands restlessly through his hair, he took a deep breath to try and settle himself. He felt a nervous energy in his magic, in her magic. It bubbled under his skin and he concentrated on isolating her magic from his own, the fire from the ice in his soul. 

Stepping through the door, he made eye contact with Pansy who nodded at him once before her eyes darted to a corner of the shop. Draco’s turned to follow her gaze and was hit full force by the weight of her magic. The shop felt 15 degrees warmer in the corner where she stood. Her hands were nervously caressing a statue of a kneazle. She seemed smaller than he remembered, her clothes hanging from her frame more than he recalled in the past. She was dressed conservatively in dark jeans and chucks. Her sweater, falling off one shoulder, was the color of pink lemonade, the soft shade highlighting the rich caramel of her skin. Her riotous curls were piled high on her head, secured by a scarf with a bold geometric pattern in complementing shades of pink, the brightness making her dark hair appear almost ebony instead of the multifaceted brown he was used to. From behind, she looked good, but off. Draco couldn’t explain why he felt that way, but he could feel it as certainly as he felt his magic. 

“These are beautiful, Draco. You’ve done really well for yourself.” 

She hadn’t even turned around to see him. He checked the window above her head to see if he could see his reflection in the mirror. He began to ask her how, only to find the wind knocked out of himself as she turned slightly to face him. To anyone else she looked exactly as she always had — youthful, beautiful, vibrant and strong, but Draco knew now why he thought she looked off from behind. The face he was looking at wasn’t the natural healthy glow he was used to but was instead covered by a heavy glamour. A glamour he was all too familiar with. He risked a glance in Pansy’s direction and saw her tap the book in front of her subtly. 

_ Fuck _ , he thought, knowing that she was confirming his suspicions thanks to the heavily spelled book in front of her. 

“Dementor got your tongue, Malfoy?” Hermione whispered. 

Draco grimaced - torn between smiling that she remembered one of his last words to her and anger that she was so clearly not okay. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he finally said, “No. Just surprised to see you is all.” 

Hermione nodded. Finally turning fully around to take him in from head to toe. “Hi.”

“Hi.” 

“I mean it, you know,” she added, spinning back to the full display in front of her which was filled with statues of magical familiars. “You’ve done really well for yourself. This place is amazing.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “You’re incredibly talented.” 

Draco felt himself blush at her words. He was used to compliments, he was, but it was different coming from her. “Thank you.” 

She pivoted towards him again fully and he quickly cataloged all the differences he could. His eyes traveling over her face and exposed neck and down to where her arms were bare, the sleeves pushed to her elbows showing she wore only a bracelet and her wedding ring. It was a good glamour, he decided, covering even the scar on her arm and the one he knew lay at her neck. His eyes flicked to her bracelet — he could almost guarantee that it was the source of the glamour, sustained with goblin magic as well as her own spellwork to hide the marks he knew had to be so easily visible without it. Though he would expect nothing else from her. He swallowed thickly wondering how the fuck he was supposed to mention it to her when Blaise stumbled into the shop, his eyes alighting upon her almost instantly.

“Well, hello there, Princess,” his words combining the smooth lilt of his charm with his flirtatious smile. “And to what do we owe the pleasure of the illustrious Golden Girl in our tiny corner of the world?”

Hermione smiled despite herself. “Hello, Blaise. It’s nice to see you, too.” She returned her attention to Draco. “The Slytherin Trio still lives, I see.” 

“We’re more of a quad then a trio,” added Theo stepping into the room and moving to stand next to Draco. “Granger.”

“Hello, Theo. How are you?” 

“I’m well. Better, I think, than you are,” his eyes drifted purposely across her face and to the bracelet on her wrist. 

“Yes, Italy seems to agree with you all.” 

“And does it agree with you, Bella?” queried Blaise his eyes drifting from the ledger in front of Pansy to the other woman’s face. Draco could see his friend trying to put the pieces together and look through the glamour across her skin. 

“What are you doing here, Granger?” Draco asked, not waiting for her to answer Blaise’s question.

“Rude,” he heard from behind him but he waved him off. 

“Hermione?” 

Her eyes lifted to his. In those earthy depths was his entire soul, and he could feel his magic react to the pain and anguish he saw there. A moment of hesitation crossed her features and her shoulders sagged with relief. 

“You figured it out, didn't you?” It wasn’t a question, more of a sighed statement. 

Draco glanced towards her, studying her carefully for a moment. She seemed to be holding her breath, and he waited for her eyes to reach his again. He needed to see into them — not just to see the rich pools of earth after a torrential rain, but the droplets of honey that shone the sweetness of her fiery soul. She refused to look up at him and Draco finally sighed in exasperation. 

“Yes. When did you?”

Her eyes flickered to his, the light he expected to see dulled and replaced with the hardness of of the sturdiest redwood. “The night in the Manor.” She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to. His eyes dropped unconsciously to her neck, to where that poisoned blade cut into her skin, the scar healed but always visible, like his Sectumsempra scars, and yet he saw nothing but clear unblemished skin. “You?” 

He opened his mouth to respond. He wanted to tell her about the letter from his mother, and the ritual, but found that he couldn’t. His eyes drifted to the floor and away from hers, afraid for the first time of what she might see if she were to look into his own. “Before that,” he conceded softly, “but apparently my father took steps to ensure that I didn’t remember it.” 

He heard her suck in a breath and peeked up at her. Hermione’s bottom lip was between her teeth and she had a resigned look upon her face. The expression she wore panged him, and Draco was moving to stand in front of her before he could even think about it.

“Does he hurt you?” He stood a full head taller than her and she tilted her chin up to look at him before she shrugged, casting her eyes away from his. 

“Let me see.”

“Draco,” she huffed.

“Let me see.” His tone was sharp. Demanding. He felt a sudden need to know the truth, to see the damage first hand. 

“You'll want to kill him.”

“I already want to kill him,” Draco growled in return.

"We already know how heavy the glamour is, Hermione," added Pansy

Hermione gazed at her for a moment and then around at the two other Slytherins. Before looking at Draco again. “Can you feel it?” she inquired, her voice shaking slightly. “When he,” she swallowed, her mouth opening and closing before she steadied herself, “When things happen? Can you- can you feel it?”

Draco blinked at her question before nodding. “Sometimes, I think. When it's really bad.” 

She bobbed her head in acceptance. Draco curled his hands into fists in his pockets, recalling with a pained flash all the times he had felt that fire under his skin. She was right. He was going to kill him. He needed to kill that sorry motherfucker. She seemed to sense where his thoughts were headed though and started to reach out to touch him before pausing and dropping her hand. It made him wonder if it was the same for her. “You?” he finally asked as the silence stretched between them. 

Her head bobbed again. “The extremes,” she replied, clearing her throat. “When you're really angry, in a lot of pain…” she paused her eyes shifting to his, “and those rare moments of release. There was one feeling I couldn't figure out, but I think I get it now.” Her hand stroked another sculpture absently. 

“And what's that?”

“Pride. Happiness? Contentment? I'm not really sure, but I think it's when you finish a piece and are happy with it,” she concluded.

Draco nodded. He did always seem a combination of those when they opened a new piece and it was whole and came out as pictured. He pursed his lips, "The anger and pain are probably fighting with Theo. He's the only one that knows how to deal with me like that and if I lash out, he’ll fight with me. I broke his arm last week and he shattered my collarbone in return."

Hermione gaped. "And you do this on purpose?"

"Yes. It's that or I become volatile."

"That's not you being volatile?"

"He needs to be dominated," added Theo quietly, sharing a secret that he probably shouldn't, but he dismissed Draco’s glare as he continued, "That's part of what leads to the release. There are rules and he is safe — mostly. We have Skel-E-Gro and pain potions and dreamless sleep for when the nightmares get too bad, but sometimes the best release is a physical one."

"You taught me that," added Draco softly bumping her shoulder with his own.

"Third year."

"Yeah, who knew breaking my nose would make you more attractive?"

Hermione laughed and the whole room stopped. For a moment, light and warmth radiated from her and all four Slytherins couldn't help but stare open mouthed at her.

"Oh, sorry,” she said suddenly hiding her face.

"Don't," replied Draco tilting her head back up. “You don't have to hide here with us. Your laugh is beautiful.”

“Ron says it's too loud.”

“Why are you married to that asshole?” demanded Pansy.

Hermione wrung her hands together and looked down. "Loyalty and compulsion charms on all the books at the Burrow and a long-standing love potion. Mrs. Weasley has apparently been feeding it to Harry and me since right after the war. She said it was because she was scared of losing any more of us after Fred. She didn't think it would mean that we would fall in love with Ron and Ginny, but it didn't stop us, either."

"Son of a bitch."

"That's some next level shit."

"Just when you forget that Molly Weasley is a Prewett and a member of the Sacred 28, she pulls out some shit like that," sneered Pansy. 

"That's why you don't have kids yet, though," murmured Draco. "A child conceived on love potions doesnt know love. It’s part of what happened with Riddle."

Hermione sniffled, “Double edged sword.”

“You have to leave him.”

Hermione wiped a stray tear from her face. "I've tried. Harry and I have both tried. No luck."

“Always knew they’d have to do something stupid to keep the chosen one” Blaise chimed in suddenly.

“Yeah, he didn’t figure it out until after he accepted his title at 21.”

“His ring.” It was a statement, all of the heads of house wore enchanted rings that protected them from potions and most enchantments. Draco, Blaise and Theo all had one as heads of their respective houses, and they had created a special one for Pansy after her father disowned her. “Potter’s would’ve negated the effects of the love potion.”

“But not the charms. He couldn't figure out why he was suddenly not as attracted to Ginny or as compliant to her wishes.”

Theo snorted. “Bet that went over all.”

“How long did it take you to figure out?” Draco ignored the warning in his head as he tucked a rogue curl behind her ear, his finger brushing the shell of it. She shivered under his touch, and he wondered if it was from desire or pain. He shoved down the need to touch her again and watched her struggle to compose herself for a moment before she answered, “A couple of months.”

“Losing your touch,” teased Theo. 

Hermione smiled despite herself. “It would’ve been sooner, but we were lacking resources.”

“Yeah, I bet the half-blood and Muggleborn had trouble finding that information,” agreed Pansy.

“Don’t be bitch, Pans,” scolded Theo.

“I’m not! But you have to admit if either of them had been Purebloods they would’ve had that information like that.” Pansy snapped her fingers to prove her point and Theo sighed.

Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “She’s not wrong. We finally found the answers in the Black family library.”

“In the Grimoire,” confirmed Draco, “which should’ve been in the ancestral vault.”

“It was, but someone else had done an inheritance test and a duplicate appeared in the library on the desk.” 

Draco wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. “That wasn’t me. I would’ve been the next one in line. My parents always talked about me doing it, but when I found out that Sirius was Harry’s godfather, I knew there was no chance of that.” 

“You are — by blood that is, but that didn’t stop Molly from doing the test on Teddy to see if he could lay claim to the title.” 

“Teddy? My cousin? Andromeda’s grandson?”

“The same,” she confirmed.

“They didn’t know you were alive,” breathed Pansy.

“10 points to Slytherin,” smiled Hermione 

“Oh, I bet that was awkward,” giggled Pansy, turning wide eyes to Draco. 

Draco found himself torn between amusement and anger — Andromeda had to know he was still alive. Why on earth would she have allowed Teddy to go through with that? He met Hermione’s eyes and knew without asking that Molly hadn’t asked Andromeda for permission to do the inheritance test on Teddy. His anger towards the Weasley matriarch grew as he added the additional slight to his family’s name to her list of wrongdoings in his mind. Not that it mattered — she was already dead for what she had tethered Hermione to. She just had no idea yet. 

“Potter was able to open it — the Grimoire I mean. He could open and read it even though he wasn’t a Black.” 

“He was Sirius’ heir.”

“So he’s the Earl of Blackmoor as well as the Earl of Gryffindor,” stated Pansy. Of everyone in the room, Pansy was the one with the deepest knowledge of each of the titles of the Sacred 28 — her father had drilled it into her thoroughly so she would know who was worthy of her hand for marriage and who would offer the best bride price for her. Draco hadn’t given any thought to the title once he’d known about Harry’s relationship with Sirius. 

“That’s what we thought, too.” Hermione’s words cut across his inner musings.

“He’s not?” spluttered Draco.

“No, Sirius was never able to finish the ritual to name him the Earl of Blackmoor. That’s still you.” 

Draco snorted. “He can have that shit. I don’t want the title I have.”

“Which is?”

Draco took her hand and bowed over it, kissing it the way he had been raised to do, “Draco Malfoy, Earl of Ormond at your service.”

  
  


Hermione giggled for a moment, “I thought for sure you’d be the Earl of Wiltshire.”

“Technically my Muggle title, if you must know, but Harry can have that shit too, for all I care.”

“Yes, and if you give it to him it will transfer to his first child with Ginny.”

“A Weasley the Earl of Blackmoor!” exclaimed Pansy in horror.

“Fuck that shit! Give it to me!” demanded Blaise. “I always thought I’d make a dashing Earl.” 

“Walburga is surely rolling in her grave,” mused Draco.

“She was quite vocal about that, yes,” surmised Hermione. 

“How did they manage that?” snapped Pansy.

“Premarital contract,” shrugged Hermione. 

“Potter signed one?” gaped Blaise.

“Yes. He didn’t know what it was.”

Draco studied her for a moment. Her hand was still tucked in his and he was loathe to draw attention to it, but he gave it a gentle squeeze to regain her attention. “Did you sign one?” 

“No.” 

Draco exhaled loudly, relief seeping into his bones. 

“Not for lack of trying on Ron’s part, but I read everything. It was the one thing I was able to fight.”

“What did he want that you objected to?” 

“Besides the inheritance test to see if I was related to the Dagworth-Granger line? He would’ve gotten part of my magic for every child we had and for every year I was married to him. My magic would’ve fed him to make him stronger and more powerful!” 

“How did you not sign that? No offense,” added Pansy hurriedly. “I’m glad you didn’t, because fuck would that have been a massive mistake, but you’re a Muggleborn. You should’ve been forced to comply. You would’ve had no protection from the Wizengamot.”

“And I didn’t, but after Dumbledore died, I asked Kingsley to be my magical guardian and he agreed.”

Draco’s head reeled at the information. The Minister of Magic was her legal magical guardian in the wizarding world? How? The answer came to him almost as quickly as the question itself. “He gave you protection under his house.” 

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you ask McGonagall?”

“I did, but she was overwhelmed with her new role and so much that was going on. She confessed that she would’ve loved to have me carry her line.”

“Yes she’s a daughter of the House of Ross,” clarified Pansy. “That line will end with her because she has no children to pass it to.”

“I was to inherit it from her before—” 

“Before you found out what the Weasleys did to you.”

Hermione nodded her head, her eyes moist with unshed tears. “I don’t want them to get her line, too.”

“She recommended Shacklebolt.” gasped Pansy.

“Yes. He and his wife had always wanted a daughter. They lost a baby during the first war and he or she would’ve been born right around the same time I was. Mariah was very excited to accept me. We kept it hidden because of the war — Kingsley and I agreed that Mariah didn’t need another target painted on her back.” 

“How did they not prevent this?”

“Who would suspect Molly Weasley of any of that?” scoffed Theo. 

Draco rubbed the back of his neck, “This is true.”

Theo scowled. “Those light families can get away with anything.” 

“Gryffindors to boot.” grumbled Blaise.

“And Kingsley was left cleaning up a ministry that was falling apart. So much was happening so fast and our attention was split in so many ways.” Hermione added absently her fingers dancing over her bracelet.

“It was the perfect time to act.” Pansy stated, shrugging when they all gaped at her. “What it was!”

“Lucius would’ve been impressed,” commented Theo lowly towards Draco.

“Septimus would’ve been more impressed,” corrected Draco.

“Septimus Weasley?” asked Hermione. 

Draco nodded. 

“Why would Arthur’s father have been impressed?’

“I'm guessing you have no idea who Arthur’s mother was?” Hermione shook her head. “Cedrella Black.” Hermione’s eyes flew into her hairline. “Haven’t you ever wondered why the Malfoys and Weasleys hate each other so much? Cedrella Black was promised to a Malfoy, and she ran off with a Weasley instead.”

“But they were Sacred 28.”

“And already considered blood traitors for protesting their inclusion into that society.”

“They lost their seat in the Wizengamot the generation before that, as well as their title as an Ancient house, due to Septimus’ father’s gambling habit.”

“That’s why she’s burned off the tapestry,” mused Hermione. 

“She is.” 

“And how is she related to you?” 

“Some Grandfather twice removed. It’s actually how I’m also related to Potter. Dorea Potter nee Black was married to Charlus Potter — Harry’s Grandfather.” 

“Fucking purebloods and you're inbreeding,” muttered Hermione.

Pansy choked behind her and Draco smirked at her. “You’re not wrong.”

“Are you related to Neville, too?” 

Draco nodded. “Callidora Black married a Longbottom.”

“The Blacks were highly sought after, weren’t they?” murmured Pansy with a smug smile. “No wonder Sirius was so popular even after 12 years in prison.” 

Hermione shook her head. “You people need to get out more.”

“Apparently Lady Magic agreed with you.”

Hermione met his eyes again and he thought he might die from the look within them. She quickly looked away, and he took yet another step towards her, using the excuse of still holding her hand. He had long since entered her personal space and he couldn’t care less about it. 

"Does the loyalty charm cause you pain?"

"When I have thoughts that are unkind about any Weasley, especially about Ron, or if my actions are considered unfaithful." She took a step back from him and tugged her hand from his as her eyes began to fill with tears. 

"So even if you left him..."

"I'd be in a great deal of pain, yes." She wandered away from him, searching the shop. When she got to the door he and Theo had entered through, she turned to him, the question on her face unmistakable. Draco nodded, granting her the permission she was looking for. She ducked and stepped through the entryway into his studio. No one but Pansy, Theo, and Blaise had been in it. The intimacy of it wasn’t lost on Draco and he knew it wasn’t lost on his friends, either. He met each of their eyes briefly before following her in, aware that they would follow, not willing to cause her more pain by allowing them to be alone together. None of them were sure what the loyalty charm would do to her.

Pansy flipped the sign in the window to closed as she followed them inside. It was obvious that Hermione was crying more freely now and trying not to. Draco cleared his throat, his hands deep in his pocket as he watched her. 

"And right now — being here — with me"

"Awfully presumptuous of you, Malfoy,” she laughed as she continued to wipe away her tears.

“Perhaps, but my magic feels calm right now being near you. It hasn't felt calm since before the war. “

“You can still feel your magic,even without a wand?”

“Hermione, I'm skilled in wandless magic. A wand is a tool, but that's all it is — a tool. There are many other means and ways to use magic.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Small chuckles surrounded her as the other three entered the room with them. “So them snapping your wand?”

“Didn't hurt me as much as they considered.”

“They also only snapped his wand in the UK. That did nothing to stop him from getting a wand anywhere else in the world,” Pansy informed Hermione with a toss of her hair. 

“Do you have a new wand?”

“I have several actually, but I really only use the one for potions and the one for here. Magic makes the art better.”

Hermione hummed, her hand running over a sculpture in the corner. “I’ve noticed that the British magical community is also very isolated in their thinking.”

Draco cocked his head. “Learned that, have you?”

“Yes, not that it does me any good.” huffed Hermione. 

“You’re stalling, by the way.” Draco surmised easily, watching her shuffle her feet and avert her eyes.

She nodded. 

“You don't have to go back, Granger. Especially if it's not safe,” interjected Pansy. “We’re nothing and a bunch of nobodies these days, but if you need help, we will help you leave him."

"Or we could just kill him," Theo chimed in. "Really, no one would miss him."

"His mum might, but she's got like five other ones," added Blaise. 

"Please drop the glamour so I can see, Hermione,” Draco pleaded, suddenly very close to her.

"This is a really neat tool," replied Hermione fingering it absently. "It looks like you could do a lot with it."

Draco snorted. "All in one tool that's always handy no matter the situation, but is incredibly particular if not used to exact specifications. Though, sometimes, if you do the exact opposite of certain rules, it works like a damn dream and get things done in half the time."

"So it's me in a tool?" 

The Slytherins laughed. "That's it," chuckled Theo as tears spilled down his face. "I'm calling that damn thing the Granger from now on."

His laughter spread to the others, and even Draco chuckled as Hermione ran her fingers along the edge again. “Ow!” she whinged, suddenly pulling her hand back. 

“Sharp as fuck too,” added Draco, quickly taking her hand, popping her finger into his mouth without thought and clearing the blood away before running his finger along the edge of the cut - using a silent wandless healing spell to seal it.

“Draco—”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, suddenly gazing at her finger, a million thoughts running through his mind as his magic vibrated inside him. He could feel her magic reaching out for him and the compulsion charm desperately trying to prevent it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, dropping a kiss to the palm of her hand. Brown eyes met grey and he saw sadness tinging her aura. “Hermione, I’m sorry.”

Magic flared around them and Draco wrapped her in his arms as accidental magic swelled and poured from her body. His magic instantly met hers, pushing her aura back, the coolness of his magic pushing back against the fire of hers. “Breathe, Hermione. Breathe, love. In and out, nice and slow.” 

“Proximity warning,” breathed Pansy. 

Draco nodded. Pansy pushed a button and swept from the room. Theo lowered the shields that he and Blaise had cast the moment they had sensed the thickness of her magic swirling in the air. 

“You have to let her go,” murmured Theo. 

Draco nodded into her hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered again. “I wish things could’ve been different. I do. If you want to leave, just say so, and we’ll make it happen.”

“I wish I could,” she sighed, “but I can’t.” 

Draco nodded, squeezing her for a moment longer, before letting go. 

“Take care,” Draco hummed, his voice husky with emotion. His magic gave a push and instantly she was on the other side of the shop wall and back in the showroom.

Ron and Harry entered the shop to find Hermione swaying a little on her feet. “Sorry,” she told them abashedly. “Dizzy spell.” 

Harry immediately crossed to her, concern etched on his features. Ron, however, promptly became distracted by the buxom blonde behind the counter who was smiling at him from under her lashes. 

“Can you tell me what happened here?” he asked, coming to stand in front of her.

The girl leaned forward for a moment, amplifying the cleavage showing in her blouse before gasping suddenly and stepping back. "You’re Ron Weasley," she exclaimed, her voice sounding breathy.

Ron gave her a large smile and a wink. "That I am, lass."

The girl behind the counter dissolved into a fit of giggles and a litany of Italian that no one else seemed to understand. "Please,” she said thrusting a piece of parchment at him, “you will sign for me, please?"

Ron leered at her, his eyes dropping to her ample breasts before returning to her face "And what do I get in exchange?"

"Signore,” she giggled, “if you were not married, I could think of a great many things I could give you.” Her heavily accented English came out as a breathy purr while she leaned suggestively over the counter, batting her eyelashes at him. 

Ron signed his name with a flourish and made to return the paper to her. "No no,” she replied pushing it back towards him. “Do… ah, two please. One of me and one for my friend.”

“And does this friend have a name?” leered Ron his eyes drifting from one breast to the other. 

“Theodora.” 

“Lovely.”

Ron signed the paper ensuring the top of the quill touched the swell of the girls breasts as he did so, her giggles making both Hermione and Harry grind their teeth in irritation.

“Ronald, really!” huffed Hermione

“You have to be nice to fans, Hermione. They make our careers, you know. Everything I do is for them,” replied Ron in a well-rehearsed speech. 

The girl took the papers, tucking them away discreetly while Harry pulled Ron aside for a quick word.

“Per favore aspetta, Signora! Signora! Don't forget your purchase,” began the woman, handing a small bag to Hermione 

“My what?” Hermione glanced at the bag and then back to the buxom blonde that she didn't remember seeing previously. The blonde winked suddenly and realization that it was Pansy under a heavy glamour dawned on her. 

“Thank you. Erm, Grazie,” Hermione replied taking the bag.

“Just sign here, please.” Hermione wasn’t sure what she was signing for but quickly set her signature to the paper and handed it back. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“Nessun problems. No trouble. You are always welcome here, Signora. Our information is in the bag should you change your mind.”

“What did you buy then?” asked Harry suddenly appearing over her shoulder. Hermione stepped away from the counter and out towards the street. 

“Hmm? Oh, you know, just some trinkets. They had some cute little pieces and they can customize chessboards. I was thinking of having one made for Ron. I thought he'd like an original set that no one else had.”

“Yeah, he might.”

Harry and Hermione exited the store together, neither noticing immediately that Ron wasn’t with them - until Harry turned to ask Ron where they should head to next. Ron walked out of the store a few moments later, slipping a piece of paper into his back pocket.

"Where to next, mate?" asked Ron gleefully

Inside the shop, Pansy dismissed the glamour with a flick of her wrist as Blaise locked the store down for the day.

"What's that about then?" Blaise questioned, watching her pull out a couple of shot glasses and set them on the counter.

"Pay back," she replied easily, filling each shot glass with brown liquid. Blaise reached for the other glass and pulled his hand away as Pansy smacked it. "Don't touch," she hissed. He watched in awe as she silently dropped one of Ron's signatures into the remaining glass before placing a ten inch bronze statue beside it. " _Hostem dominantur_ ."

Blaise felt his hair stand on end as magic swirled around the cup and bronze serpent. The serpent wrapped his body around the cup, engulfing it and covering the open glass entirely. It laid heavily upon the top of the glass and froze. "By the time the cup is empty," Pansy stated, picking it up and moving it to a display shelf behind the counter, in an area marked 'Not for sale', "Ron Weasley’s life will be ruined."

“And the paper you slipped him?”

“The address for the club we’ll be going to tonight.” 

“And why would we do that?”

“I need his underwear.”

Blaise gulped and decided it was best not to ask any more questions. 

  
  
  


The next day, Blaise watched as Pansy hand sewed a hot pepper into the crotch of the underwear she had liberated from Ronald the night before. She used a sticking spell to attach his signature to the inside of the waistband. Using her hands, she dug a small hole in their back garden and placed his pants inside, covering the entire surface with salt and pepper while stating clearly, “ _ Mentula desit. Non diligamus inique agunt virumiterum _ .” Seven times. She covered the entire surface with dirt, and dusted her hands off as she stood up. 

“May Lady magic curse you for your crimes against her chosen one. So Mote it be.” 

Blaise whistled from behind her. “Merlin, woman, you’re pulling out all the stops.” 

“Did you see how heavy that glamour was? He deserves so much more than what’s coming to him.”

“I’m not arguing with you. I’m just saying it’s a lot of work.”

“Are you helping me or not?”

“Haven’t I always?”

Pansy nodded. “I need a good fuck,” she tossed walking away. “You coming?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thanks again to the Mourning Madam, Potion Chemist, and EscapingArtist. Comments and kudos are always welcome xx


	6. Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably not the smartest plan to drop some angst and turmoil today, but all good things in moderation, as they say. My wonderful beta has not seen this chapter yet, so please excuse any errors for the time being and know that I haven't forgotten or abandoned this story.

###  **_(vi) planning_ **

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Minister?" 

"Ah, yes, Mrs. Weasley. Please come in."

Hermione noticed that the Minister was joined by his wife and felt unease pass over her body. "Is everything alright, Mr. Minister?" she asked nervously.

"Yes. Yes. Just a moment," he replied. Hermione sat in silence as the minister pressed several runes on his desk. She felt a shiver of magic as several wards settled across the room. Privacy and protection, she guessed from the faint shimmer of netting she could see across the room. She gasped slightly as she noticed her skin glowing faintly as well. 

"You'll need to remove your glamour, Hermione," Kingsley stated softly from across the desk. 

"I-I can't," she stuttered. "I'm not allowed to remove it outside my home."

Kingsley pursed his lips. "I see. In the name of family business, I, Kingsley Samuel Shacklebolt, the patriarch of your house, do hereby order you, Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley, to remove all glamours that you are wearing for the safety and protection of House Shacklebolt. So mote it be." 

Hermione watched the magic settle in a golden glow around Kingsley as his oath settled and felt a distinct tingling in her own magic in response. She was unsure what the consequences would be for not following the oath and was unsure if the risk would be greater to obey the command or deny it. Swallowing thickly, she placed trembling fingers on the bracelet on her wand arm. With concentrated effort, she slid the bracelet off her wrist before placing it on Kingsley's desk. She ignored the gasp of horror that escaped his wife Mariah and focused intently on her hands folded in her lap as she willed the tears not to fall.

"Hermione," Mariah sobbed, "Oh my child. What has he done to you?"

Swallowing against the bile in her throat, Hermione opened her mouth to speak. "It's unlikely your oath will supersede my marriage oath," she stated matter of factly. "I'll be unable to comment on how I got anything you see, and trying to convince me to speak of such things will cause me a great deal of pain." She lifted her eyes then, revealing a slew of bruises in various states of healing across her face. She didn't flinch as she met the horrified face of her Patriarch head-on. She turned her face to meet Mariah, ensuring that the swallow sickly tinge to her skin and the very clear black eye her glamour had hidden were clear to the other woman. She said nothing as she pushed her sleeves back, revealing more bruises and fingerprints along the exposed skin. 

Mariah moved towards her, and Hermione flinched back, "I'm sorry," she stated softly. "You won't be able to touch me much, either." Mariah's filled with tears as she stepped back and nodded in understanding.

"Have you been attended to by a healer?" asked Kingsley. "Had any pain potions or healing creams?"

"This is WITH healing creams," scoffed Hermione. "Believe me. It was much worse over the weekend."

Across from her, Kingsley's jaw tightened, and fury rolled off him in waves.  "How long?"

Hermione dropped her eyes, unable to look into his eyes as the answer left her lips, "Years."

"How could we have missed it?" gasped Mariah.

Lifting her head, Hermione offered a wan smile, "Because I am forgettable."

"Oh darling, no," Mariah replied, wiping the tears that fell from her eyes, "You are anything but forgettable."

Hermione lifted a shoulder in the indication of a shrug, "Be that as it may, I am only a muggleborn. The laws of our society do not protect me from my pureblood husband." Her eyes shifted to Kingsley, daring him to refute her words. "There is no help for someone like me in our society." 

Kingsley flinched as if she had slapped him and dropped his head in shame. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I have failed you."

Hermione wiped absently at a tear that trailed down her face. "I need to put that back on. He monitors it and will know."

Nodding, Kingsley told her to go ahead. "The family magic will prevent that," he added, watching her reach across the small space to pick up her bracelet from his desk. "And the warding off this office will prevent anyone else from knowing what has transpired inside this room." 

Hermione nodded as she slipped the bracelet back on her wrist. The glamour sliding back over her skin with a subtle glow of magic. Instantly transforming her sunken cheekbones to full ones. Her ugly bruised skin, replaced with a healthy glow. Even the fullness in her eyes, replaced with a richness that had been lacking moments before. 

Clearing her throat, Hermione asked if there was any other family business that needed to be attended to before she left.

Kingsley swallowed thickly, trying to acclimate the woman now in front of him from the shell of the woman he'd seen just a few minutes before. "There is. I'd like you to come to our home for Samhain this year. It is our family's anniversary, and we would like to renew the family ritual circle. Unfortunately, your husband cannot attend, as you do not have children yet. The entire thing should only last a couple of hours."

"You'll need to declare it so, and make it a direct order to the family magic," she began. "And you'll also need to exert your authority as my Patriarch to both he and his family, so they know not to expect me at the Weasley Samhain renewal. I will be unable to attend without their consent." Kingsley nodded in understanding, "I'll see to it." 

"If that's all, I'll head back to work," Hermione began rising from her chair. She paused as Mariah rushed forward to hug her tightly. "I'm so sorry," the other woman whispered into her ear. "We have failed you."

Hermione patted her back and gave her a wan smile, "Adversity makes men, and prosperity makes monsters, Mariah." With a final nod to Kingsley, she stepped from Mariah's arms and out the door. 

The room remained silent for several moments, barring Mariahs's sobs as she exited the room. 

Kingsley clenched his jaw. He shifted his attention to his left as a figure stepped out of the shadows. His eyes returned to the doorway, and his magic crackled in the air.

"You will do everything in your power to ruin him."

"I will."

"You will save her and break the curse that binds her to him and his."

"I will."

"Good." Kingsley turned his attention fully to the man that had emerged from the darkness. 

Blaise stood unflinching before the Minister of Magic, "You will change the laws that allowed him to do this."

"I will."

"You will see he is imprisoned or cast out for his crimes against magic."

"I will."

"Then we have an accord." They grasped forearms, and ribbons of magic swirled around their interlocking arms, sealing their vows. Blaise lowered his hand and nodded to both the Minister and his wife, who came to stand by her husband's side, her face still tear stained.

"Will she survive this?" Mariah asked softly.

"Only our Lady Magic can say for sure," Blaise replied casually. "I look forward to seeing your latest proposals for the Wizengamot next month, Mr. Minister. Good day to you both." And with that, the Italian opened the door and walked out the door of the Minister of Magic, unnoticed and blended into the crowd with ease. 

***

Hermione steadied herself as she walked back towards her office. She had always wondered what it would be like to have someone, anyone know about the pain she faced behind closed doors. Never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned that it would be Kingsley and Mariah of all people that would learn her truth -not that it mattered. All she felt was more pain. Pain for hurting them. Pain for burdening them. Pain for being helpless to stop it. 

"Ridiculous," she mumbled, opening the door to her office and stepping inside. 

"I think I'm quite pretty actually, but I guess some may consider my fashion sense a bit ridiculous." Hermione gasped as she turned to face the woman that was seated in her client chairs. 

"Pansy! You scared me!"

"Apologies," replied Pansy, looking anything but sorry.

"How did you get in here?"

"What? Like it's hard?"

Hermione swallowed as she crossed the room to her desk. "I-I guess not." 

"Your work makes it easy, you know. To get in to see you. To get close to you. It's sad, really."

"How so?"

"That so many people can see you, and yet nobody really does, do they?" asked Pansy, plucking a piece of invisible lint from her skirt. 

Hermione straightened a piece of parchment on her desk, absently. "Just how can I help you today, Ms. Parkinson?"

"Oh, it's Ms. Parkinson, now is it? Interesting," mused Pansy. She watched Hermione intently for a moment. "Are you happy, Hermione?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times before clamping it shut. "I can't answer that."

"You mean you can't answer it, truthfully," replied Pansy with a smug grin. Hermione felt her stomach clench painfully, and she grit her teeth against the pain. "That's what I thought."

"I won't waste any more of your time," Pansy said, standing, "I just came to drop this off for you," she added, placing a statue upon Hermione's desk along with two vials and a small book. 

"What's that?" Hermione asked, admiring the tiny Otter holding a ball of ice. 

"Instructions and help. If you want out," shrugged Pansy, adjusting her skirt.

Hermione swallowed, feeling a flair of hope in her heart for the first time in a long time. "I-I-I can't," she stammered, willing herself not to cry, "He'll know."

"Oh, I'm sure he knows lots but not this," Pansy replied, tapping the book with a well-manicured finger. "I can't tell you more than this," she added, moving towards the door. "I don't expect you to trust me either, but Merlin, you're the Brightest Witch of our age. You're meant for more than this."

"Pansy-"

"My mom was like you, you know," Pansy said, pausing as her hand touched the doorknob. "She didn't get out in time. Don't share her fate, Granger." 

Pansy opened the door to leave as Hermione's voice called her back. "What do I do?"

Pansy closed the door and looked at the battered woman before her, knowing that the glamour was hiding so much more than what she saw. "The Instructions are inside the book. It's spelled, so only you can read it."

Hermione nodded, and her eyes dropped once again to the otter, knowing that he must've carved it, especially for her. "You can say the otter is from Luna, by the way."

"Luna?" asked Hermione in shock. 

"She sees more than you think and can answer any questions you may have."

Hermione nodded as Pansy again turned toward the door. "Pansy?" The dark-haired woman turned to look at her. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, Granger," replied Pansy.

"You're a good friend. He's lucky to have you."

Pansy pursed her lips, "We're lucky to have each other. And I'm sorry you can't say the same."

The door closed firmly behind the other woman with a click, and Hermione couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard a faint, "yet" in her wake. Hermione pulled the vials and book towards her and tucked them into the dimensional store in her bracelet, grateful as always that she had at least developed a good reputation with the Goblins in the wake of the war - even if they were unable to free her from the hell she was currently living in. 

***

"Good afternoon, Potter."

Harry blew out a breath as he took in the woman that had walked through his door. It was often that he felt physically attracted to a woman, but he'd be lying if he didn't admit that there was something about the sky-high heels and tight skirt on the woman in front of him that made him feel things he hadn't in so long. He'd never admit to anyone that he had always found Pansy Parkinson attractive. Her full lips and perfect hair just begging to be disheveled. She'd grown up nicely, her curves filling out nicely, and her tan skin glowing. Everything about her screamed Pureblood Princess, even after all these years.

"Parkinson," he replied, his voice showing the surprise he felt. Harry stood. "It's been some time since you've graced England with your presence, I believe."

"Keeping tabs, Potter?" she asked, stepping fully into the room. 

"Occupational hazard," he replied, waving a hand at his door and closing it succinctly behind her as she crossed the room. He gestured to the chair in front of him, "Have a seat."

"Thank you," returned Pansy as she moved to sit in the indicated seat. Her Pureblood upbringing was evident in her every move. Harry waited until she was seated to sit down himself, subtly adjusting himself under the desk.

"Congratulations on your recent promotion," began Pansy. "Head of the DMLE, and youngest ever Department Head in Ministry history, I believe."

Harry blushed, despite himself, "Yes, well," he cleared his throat, feeling flustered by her words. "Thank you. It was a surprise, but really not many other positions I could be moved to considering where I started." 

"Yes, where else would the Head Auror go but up?" The smile she gave was saccharin, and Harry fought not to shift under her gaze.

Clearing his throat, Harry offered her tea, as was proper, and Pansy smiled at him as she declined, showing just the right amount of teeth. "

"You're not here to talk about my promotion, are you?"

Pansy's smile turned momentarily predatory, and Harry suddenly felt as if he had stepped into a snake's den - in his own office. "You've grown more observant in your age, Potter. I'm impressed. I wonder, though, how observant are you about other things?" she asked as she crossed her legs, flashing a bit of skin as she did so, before relaxing into the chair. 

His eyes darted only briefly to her legs before he met her eyes, a combination of unexpected lust and steely determination reflected in his jade eyes. Pansy smiled smugly, "How are those loyalty charms holding up these days? Still as deeply in love with Mrs. Potter as ever?"

Harry was used to women flirting with him, offering themselves to him in ways that would turn most people's heads. It was something he could easily excuse and ignore. The lure of being with the "Chosen One" too much for many to handle, but something about Pansy's words rang differently. His face went slack as he processed her words. "How-How did you?" he stammered. 

Pansy waved a hand dismissively at him before leaning forward, her ample bosom suddenly straining against the buttons of her blouse as she gave him a breathy sigh, before replying, her normal voice now heavily accented, "Can you look, Signore? Can you touch? Would you like to touch, Signore?"

Recognition dawned on Harry's face. "The Gallery." Pansy nodded before leaning back. "You were there?" Pansy's smile was smug. "Ron?" Pansy rolled her eyes. "But that day you," he gasped suddenly. "Hermione." 

"Finally catching up, Wonder Boy."

"What do you want with Hermione?" demanded Harry, his wand suddenly in hand.

Pansy arched a brow at him, not at all intimidated at his sudden show of dominance and the way his magic drifted over his skin. "Interesting," she replied casually. "And what are these feelings for Granger? Are they deeper than friendship?"

Harry scoffed at her, "Hermione is like my sister."

"So then you'd be interested in saving her," began Pansy, watching him intently. 

"Of course!" he exclaimed, feeling a small pull on his magic. The loyalty charms were not nearly as effective as they had been. Harry felt as if the wind was suddenly knocked from his sails. "You know," he whispered, at last, a haunted look replacing the resolved one only moments beforehand. 

"Probably more than you realize."

"And what do you intend to do about it?" scoffed Harry, more uncomfortable with the conversation than he'd like to admit. 

"More than you could," she snapped before taking a deep breath.

Harry's eyes widened in horror, "Dark Magic."

"Oh please," replied Pansy with a roll of her eyes. "All you need is some jewels on your neck, and you'd be the perfect scandalized Pureblood Matriarch." Harry glowered at her, and Pansy smirked. "You don't have enough training to even know what real Dark Magic even is. Besides," she added quickly, cutting off whatever argument he was about to make, "it's not necessarily 'Dark,' Potter - more very Grey, and soaked in ritual magicks the likes you've never seen."

"I've seen ritual magick, Parkinson," Harry returned.

"Not like this," spat Pansy. "Not Pureblood magicks that would never ever be shared with a Half-Blood or Muggleborns."

"Not this again," he scoffed. "I have access to the Black Grimoire."

"Yes, to the Patriarch's Grimoire," replied Pansy smugly. "There is magic you will never know simply because you are a man."

"Then why tell me? Do you need my help? There's no way I could possibly participate."

"We don't need you to participate. We just need you to make sure that she is allowed to be at a certain place at a certain time."

Harry swallowed, thinking of all the pain and confusion and betrayal over the last few years. There had been so many lies and so many wishes to change the past to change what had brought them to this place. "Will she be in danger? or injured?"

"She'll be in more pain than she already is," replied Pansy noncommittally.

Nodding, Harry put his wand away. "I-I want to help. She was my best friend- IS my best friend." He ran his hands through his hair in frustration before glaring at his wedding ring. "It's only right. She's only in this mess because of me."

"How noble," tutted Pansy.

"How else can I help? I'm powerful."

"It's not about power, Potter," scoffed Pansy. "Well," she amended, rubbing a finger thoughtfully against her lips, "Not that kind of power at any rate." She smirked as Harry's eyes followed her movement.

"So why even tell me about it now?"

"Because we need to make sure our girl is where we need her, and only you can help with that."

"Tell me about the plan. Maybe I can look it over and offer insight? Ensure the ritual will work."

"Two words for you, Potter: plausible deniability. " Harry scoffed, though slightly surprised that she even knew what that was. "Don't you worry," she slid a vial out of her bag and onto his desk along with a statue of a Snake wrapped around a golden snitch. 

Harry eyed the vial skeptically and immediately waved a hand over it to test for any obvious potions or poisons. "So distrusting," smirked Pansy. "As if I would be fool enough to do anything to the Head of the DMLE."

"What is it then?"

"Insurance. Everyone knows that you're a shit Occlumens, and we don't know what's going to come of this."

Harry picked up the sculpture, smiling despite himself at the cuteness and accuracy of it. "From the Gallery?" Pansy nodded. "Are they in on it? Is that who you meant by 'we?'"

"No. They suffer from the same problem that you do." Harry raised a brow at her in question. "Men," she smirked. Pansy stood then, surprising him as she did so. Harry stood as well, as protocol dictated. Pansy smiled as she allowed her eyes to drift down his body again. Harry blushed under her obvious gaze. "Did you know that I thought you were very attractive, Harry?" she asked, allowing her eyes to linger on his lips for several moments. "It's too bad you're married," she added, crossing to the door. "I'd love to have fucked you to show you how really sorry I am - for everything." She met his eyes over her shoulder and noted the dumbfounded expression on his face with a smirk. "If I was your type, that is." She stared at him pointedly, assessing him in a way that left him both fearful and aroused. "Perhaps that's been part of the problem. Maybe what you really need is a good apology fuck from someone else." She paused, tapping her mouth with one perfectly manicured nail once again, "Theo perhaps." Harry's eyes widened a fraction, and Pansy gave him a knowing smile. "Instructions are on the vial. I'll be in touch."

Harry stood helpless as she walked out the door, closing it quietly behind her. Harry swallowed, willing the blood to slow its pulsing rhythm through his body. Even if she was right, and he'd consider it - any of it, he was married and tied to his loveless marriage forever. 

***

Hours later, Harry sat in his office doing paperwork. He worked long hours these days, but not because he had to, simply because it kept him from having to go home and deal with whatever his marriage had become. He answered the knock on his door without looking up.

"Harry?"

His head snapped up, and he was surprised to see Hermione hovering in his doorway. "Hermione," he breathed. "Come in. Come in." He straightened a few papers on his desk and set aside his work so he could focus on his best friend. He tried as he always did to see past the Glamour his magic told him she was wearing but failed as usual to see anything other than glowing, healthy skin and shining happy eyes. "Everything okay?" he asked as she sat across from him.

"Can we talk for a minute?"

"Of course," nodded Harry. He cast a Muffliato spell so that they wouldn't be overheard despite the door remaining open. 

Hermione's eyes drifted across the paperwork on his desk. "busy day."

Harry shrugged. "Same old. Same."

Hermione nodded, feeling her breath catch as it landed upon the sculpture on his desk. She picked it up tentatively, sucking in a breath as she turned it over and saw the mark Hephaestus on the bottom. "Where did you get this?" she asked, stroking the snake gently.

"I had a visitor today.”

Hermione nodded. "I did too."

“What are you going to do?”

“I think I'm going to do it,'' she confessed, setting the sculpture down.

Harry's mind flashed back to his conversation with Pansy earlier that day. He'd researched what potential ritual she could do but had come up short in many ways. It turned out she had been right. There were many spells and forms of ritual magick that he couldn't access due to their rooting in matriarchal ritual. Still, it worried him, even if Pansy said the ritual wasn't dark. "You don't even know what it is, do you?"

"It can't be any worse than what I'm dealing with now," shrugged Hermione.

"Hermione," sighed Harry, rubbing at his scar absently. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was that bad."

Hermione met his eyes then, and Harry was struck suddenly by how tired she looked. "Didn't you?

Harry swallowed, "I guess I didn't want to believe-"

"Me either," she said, cutting him off. "But here we are."

"Here we are," echoed Harry. They sat together in silence for a moment before he asked if she had a potion to take as well.

Hermione nodded, and they fell into silence once more. "I guess I should be getting home," Hermione said at last. 

"Right. Right, of course," Harry replied, standing as she did so. He watched her with sad eyes as she crossed to the door. He returned to his seat with a sigh and an unexplained heaviness in his heart. 

"Harry?" the dark-haired man looked into the eyes of his best friend, Yeah?"

"Just," began Hermione biting her lip, "If it doesn't work, I want you to know that I don't blame you. You were a good best friend while it lasted."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Stay safe out there. xx the Wordsmith.


	7. Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? *gasps* I know. I'm as shocked as you are. Plan to write and distract from world events remain in effect - so enjoy.

###  **_(vii) execution_ **

Hermione steadied herself at the sink. This was it. Tonight was the night. Samhain had finally come. It had taken some work, some real work, to convince Ron and then Molly to let her miss the Weasley Samhain gathering in place of the Shacklebolt one, but thanks to Harry - and surprisingly Arthur, they had finally consented. It was the last piece of the puzzle that she had needed. Tonight she would walk away from this life forever. She hoped. 

Honestly, she had no idea what was going to happen. Or how it would work, but she was ready.

So, very, very ready. 

The last several months had been especially trying, and she could tell from the flares within her magic that Draco was struggling as well. She wondered if it was because of her. If knowing the truth about their connection had been as much of a blessing and curse to him as it had been to her. She hoped not. She hoped he was still creating, still fighting Theo and finding his pleasure where he could. Hermione grimaced as a flair of jealousy flitted through her, and the loyalty charm caused her pain over thinking of a man who wasn't her husband.

Sighing, Hermione gazed about her home. "Not much longer now," she told herself as her eyes fell to the clock on the mantle.

A small pop sounded behind her, and Hermione was surprised to see a tiny House Elf dress in a pink shift adorned with purple flowers standing in behind her.

"Hello," offered Hermione softly.

The House Elf smiled at her, "It be time, Miss. You come with Athena." Hermione nodded as she accepted the hand the elf offered her. Hermione cast one last glimpse around the house she had called home for so many years and found she felt nothing.

It was simply time to let go.

It was time to move on.

If there was a way to break free from the hell she was trapped in, she'd take it. No matter the cost. 

Meeting Athena's blue eyes, Hermione nodded, and in the next breath, they were gone.

Hermione landed on her feet, not even swaying as she landed. Athena did not let go of her hand but instead led her towards an orchard, weaving her way through the uneasy footing easily. Athena paused at the edge of a clearing at the heart of the orchard. Nodding at something Hermione couldn't see in the darkness before Athena once again was tugging her hand and leading her forward. Hermione followed, keeping up easily with the small being and not feeling in the least bit afraid - though she probably should. 

"Miss needs to finish cleansing," Athena stated, pausing suddenly in front of a large cistern. Hermione swallowed, unsure of what that meant.

"You'll need to remove your clothes and then step into the cistern," came a voice behind her. 

"Luna!" Hermione cried in relief as the other woman cast a bluebell charm to illuminate the space around them gently.

"Hello, Hermione," Luna replied sweetly. "I'm afraid I cannot touch you just yet."

"Because of the cleansing rituals," replied Hermione.

"Because of the Blibbering Humdingers," countered Luna. 

Hermione smiled, grateful as always for Luna's unique view of the world. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"Oh yes, there must be a balance in such things. I was happy to commune once again with my favorite Goddess on such a holy day."

"Are we all set?"

Hermione turned again and sighed with relief, "Pansy."

"I'm not sure if Luna explained how this works, but you have to remove all your clothes and actually get into the cistern for the cleansing runes to activate and actually work."

"Yes," began Hermione, "we were getting to that."

"Did you finish taking all your potions?" Pansy asked by way of greeting.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I followed all the instructions in the book you gave me."

"Did you bring it with you?" demanded Pansy. Hermione nodded again and pulled a book from the pocket of her robes. "Good," added Pansy, extending her hand to take the book from Hermione. "We don't need anyone to be able to trace this." Hermione watched as the other woman handed the book to Athena. "Now. Get undressed and into the cistern. Athena will be here with you."

"I'll be here too," added Luna dreamily. "the cistern cleansing is my favorite part. It feels like playing in the rain." 

"There's an additional potion for you to take," pressed on Pansy, "and Athena will apply a slave to your skin before you can put on your ritual robe."

"Ritual robe? That wasn't on the list-" began Hermione panicking.

"Oh, we have one for you," interjected Luna. "It's lovely. The finest Acromantula silk and Demiguise hair."

"Get cleaned up, Granger," encouraged Pansy. "The moon is nearing its apex, and we have a ritual to do." 

Hermione shivered as she removed her clothes and climbed into the cistern. She wasn't surprised at all when Luna followed her into the cistern or when the pale blonde took her hand as the water-activated around them. Hermione found herself grateful for the comfort of a friend as the water swirled around them, and she followed Luna's lead and closed her eyes, allowing the magical water to purify her skin. 

When the cistern's door clicked upon a few minutes later, Hermione allowed Luna to guide her out. Athena and another elf greeted them. She was relieved to see they had raised a curtain of some kind to offer protection from both the elements and any others gathered for the ritual. "This is for you," Luna told her dreamily stroking the fabric reverently, "Nakedness is part of all rituals, and anyone raised with them has learned to accept their body moons ago." 

Hermione nodded, wishing she had learned some of the histories that Luna was referring to, but wisely said nothing as Athena began to apply a salve upon her freshly cleansed skin. It took Hermione a moment to realize that the little elf wasn't just rubbing the salve into her skin but was instead drawing a series of runes upon her body. "What do they mean?" Hermione asked, recognizing a couple of runes here and there. 

"All things," Athena replied with a warm smile. Hermione looked to Luna for clarification, but finding none, merely stood still and allowed the elf to go about her business. When she was done, Athena did, in fact, help Hermione into the loveliest robe she'd ever seen. The fabric was light as air and felt as soft as silk upon her skin.

"This is where I leave you," Luna told her, taking her hands in her own. "I have every confidence our paths will meet again, and I wish you far more joy and peace upon your next journey." 

Hermione stood at a loss of words as the younger girl stood on her tiptoes and placed a chaste kiss upon her lips and twirled off into the darkness. Hermoine shivered in the night air, suddenly feeling chilled and uncertain.

"Here we be, Miss. Finally ready," said Athena. Hermione turned to respond when she saw Pansy thank the elf. Where the other woman had come from, Hermione had no idea.

The air around them crackled with magic. "How many people will be here tonight?"

Pansy met her eyes, and Hermione felt unsure if she should've asked her question. "There will be seven of us, and then, of course, you," replied Pansy, her tone as flat and even as if she had merely remarked that the weather had been clear and fair that day. "Did you bring the other things I asked for?"

"Oh, yes!" Hermione gave her an apologetic smile and removed several vials from her dimensional store. "Ron's hair and sweat. My hair and tears. My wedding ring," she added, removing the circle of metal from her finger. 

"You'll have to remove your dimensional store as well."

Hermione gulped. "He monitors it-"

"He won't be able to trace it through the wards here. The Goblins made sure of that earlier today."

"The Goblins? Do they know about tonight?"

"They know all they need to," replied Pansy vaguely, handing off everything to the other Elf that had helped Luna. "Now," she added, stepping forward and pulling Hermione towards her. Her lips crashing down upon Hermione's with a bruising harshness. Pansy grabbed a handful of Hermione's breast through the ritual robe's thin material and pinched her nipple savagely until Hermione opened her mouth in protest. Pansy used the moment to her advantage, shoving her tongue into Hermione's mouth and plundering it, her opposite hand tangling in Hermione's hair and pulling with a satisfying tug. Another heartbeat passed, and Pansy pulled back with a pleased smirk. 

"A kiss stolen, a body unwillingly touched, a hair forcibly removed," canted Pansy. "A soul released from the trappings of shame and given freely to the next adventure."

Hermione felt her breath catch in understanding, the anger that had welled insider her at Pansy's unaccepted touch to her body, fading slightly.

"Don't worry, Granger," Pansy smirked. "That'll be the last time someone touches you without your permission in this lifetime." 

Moments later, Hermione stood at the edge of a runic circle. Seven women were spread across the circle, wearing ritual robes of blood red. Their hair lay against their backs, unbound, their skin sparkling from the runic cleansing they had all performed before joining the circle. All of their faces - except Pansy's - were covered by wooden masks carved into different animals' faces. At the center of each mask, directly upon the forehead, was a glowing crescent moon, upturned to the sky. The symbol of a Goddess Hermione thought absently as magic crackled around her. 

Pansy extended her hand through the barrier to Hermione. Hermione felt the magic of the ward tingle across her skin as she accepted the other woman's hand. Crossing over the ward and into the circle, Hermione felt as if she was walking through a river, but she saw nothing but bare earth when she glanced down. 

"Will it hurt?" she asked, feeling nerves settle in for the first time.

"I couldn't say," Pansy replied.

"Will I come back?"

"Not to this life."

Hermione nodded. "Will I still be bound to him?"

"You will be free."

Hermione licked her lips as Pansy guided her to the center of the circle, where a crescent moon drawn in salt lay. At the end of this, Hermione reminded herself, she would be free.

Free.

Free from pain.

Free from Ron.

Free from Molly.

Free from all the Weasleys.

Free from the lies.

From the potions and shackles that confined her.

Free from the ache in her soul for a life and love she could not have. 

"Free. Free. Free," she chanted to herself before meeting Pansy's eyes. Nodding her head, Hermione closed her eyes as the ritual began around her. She was vaguely aware of Pansy beginning the ritual. Hermione tried to focus on the words Pansy was saying but found she could not. She could only make out a few words here and there: Aradia, goddess, free. 

Free. Free. Free, chanted Hermione again in her mind. Free from the rejection. Free from the bond she couldn't fulfill. Free from the pain of loving Draco. 

Hermione felt her breath hitch. No. Not Draco. Never free from Draco. He was the only thing she didn't wish to be free from. Reaching down into her magic, she gathered the feeling of his magic, the ice against her core, and wrapped it around herself. Pain filled her heart, and suddenly Hermione felt as if she couldn't breathe. Her eyes flickered around the circle as panic set in. She was rooted to the spot - unable to move, to speak. Her eyes moved from one covered face to the next, noting outstretched arms and seeing them sway side to side as Pansy's words continued to roll over her. 

The next thing Hermione knew was pain and overwhelming panic. 

Aradia.

Goddess, help me.

Be free.

Hermione heard the words in her head over and over. Even as she felt her limbs grow heavy and a weight press against her. She felt like she was drowning. Suffocating under a weight, she could not resist. As darkness closed in on her, Hermione looked once more to pansy. There was no fear in the other woman's eyes, only pain, and determination. Pansy nodded her head once at Hermione before she too lifted her hands skyward, her voice wrapping around Hermione's as the others chanted. With her next breath, Hermione succumbed to the darkness that had been pushing in on her, unable to fight anymore.

***

Hermione awoke with a start. She gasped for breath as her hands ran over her body, searching for breaks, damage, anything. She was no longer in her ritual robe, which had been white and silver. Instead, she was wearing a soft robe in midnight blue.

Gazing around the sparse space, Hermione noted that she appeared to be at King's Cross Station... only... partially. She stood on the platform, the Hogwarts Express, in front of her. Everything was clean and pristine... and empty. So very, very empty. 

However, on the other side of the train stretching out as far as she could, was a forest and clear sky with stars twinkling high above. Vaguely, she remembered Harry telling her about a similar moment, and she swallowed thickly as she spun in a circle, afraid of what it might mean.

"Hello?" She flinched at how tentative and unsure her voice sounded, even to her own ears. She paused, torn between hoping that someone would respond and that no one would. She swallowed thickly before calling out again. A rustling sound behind her had her whirling toward the train and peering on to the opposite platform.

"Hello?"

"Ciao Bambina."

Hermione gasped as she turned to the voice. Where a moment ago there had been no one, now stood a woman, draped in folds of gauzy material, her long brown hair unbound and wild down her back. A crescent moon adorned her forehead, and a crown of flower sat upon her head. Hermione was struck by her beauty and felt an unnatural desire to sink to her knees and bow in reverence to the Goddess in front of her.

Goddess.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she stumbled momentarily, as she sank to her knees. 

"There is no need for that." Hermione heard the voice clearly, and yet the woman's lips had not moved.

"How? Who?" Her brain whirled, and she closed her eyes as she tried to steady her breath. "Am I dead?" she asked at last.

Soft musical laughter met her ears, and Hermione opened her eyes. She gasped in surprise that the woman from the other side of the platform was now standing directly in front of her. "Rise my child," the woman told Hermione and offered her hand to help her up.

"I'm... I'm sorry. Who are you? Where am I? Am I dead?" queried Hermione.

"So many questions in that beautiful mind," the woman replied, her smile radiant. "Come, let us sit."

Hermione said nothing as a chaise appeared, and the woman led her to it. The woman helped Hermione sit before she joined her. 

"I am Aradia, daughter of Diana."

"Queen of witches," breathed Hermione.

Aradia smiled at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You've heard of me."

"Only recently," confessed Hermione, "You were in the book Pansy gave me before the ritual."

Nodding, Aradia's hand traveled down to stroke Hermione's cheek and then cupped her chin, turning her head one way and then the other. "So lovely," she whispered, withdrawing her hand, "I can see my mother's mark on you, and the mark of your love. You were always mean to balance each other. The fire and ice of your magic are breathtaking to behold. So compatible. So strong."

Hermione sucked in a breath at Aradia's words as panic suddenly filled her, "Am I? Is he? Is he okay?"

"Fine," replied Aradia with a smile, and Hermione felt herself relax slightly.

"We didn't stand a chance, you know? To be together, I mean."

Aradia's face darkened, "I know. That meddlesome fool Dumbledore and that twit of a woman interfering where they had no right to. Dumbledore has already paid for his sin against you and against your brother."

Hermione's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Brother? I don't have a brother," she paused. "Harry." Aradia nodded. "Dumbledore interfered with Harry?"

Aradia's smile was feral, and Hermione felt the power of the Goddess before her. "It matters not for that fool has been sent to pay for his sins. Lady Magic doesn't interfere in the lives of her children, sadly," pouted Aradia. "But exceptions are made when fools pretend to be Gods."

Hermione swallowed, not quite understanding, and found herself not wanting to know the answer for the first time in so long. They sat silently together for some time, gazing at the stars as Aradia gently stroked her hands over Hermione's curls.

"Did Pansy's spell work?" Hermione asked at last.

Aradia's face softened as she looked down at the mortal beside her, and she stroked Hermione's cheek again. "It did. The spells that bound you to those wretched fools have been broken, and they will pay the price for what they've done to you and your brother."

"And Draco?"

Aradia's gaze returned to the sky, "Your soulmate lives." Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Not that she was keen to admit it, but she had been afraid that if she was dead, she'd take him with her. It was a fate she didn't want for him. "Oh, Cara Mia, you're not dead," laughed Aradia.

"I'm not?"

"No, Bambina. You are simply in the place in between."

"Harry came to a place like this once, but he was dead when it happened. So I just thought;"

"It's a natural assumption," Aradia said with a shrug. She began moving her fingers from Hermione's cheeks down to her neck and shoulders. "But while your soul is very much here with me, your body is very much still on earth. It's merely... contained."

"Contained?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," breathed Aradia, "until your soulmate can free you fully, you will remain here with me. We will allow retribution to fall on those who have harmed you, and we will be sure you shall be free of everything before you return again. Unless, of course, you decide to stay here with me."

Hermione swallowed again as Aradia's hand traveled along her collarbone and between her breasts. "My mother taught me to potion and bind those that would oppress her children so they may be free of their tyranny. I have no qualms about exacting revenge upon those that would abuse the magic within such beauty as yours." Hermione nodded, her eyes fluttering closed as Aradia's hands continued to move along her body. It had been so long since she had felt such gentleness, had felt such pleasure at another person's touch. It was overwhelming in so many ways. 

"In the meantime, you and I will perform some magic of our own, Cara Mia. Restoring the diving life force that was taken from you and ensuring that when your soulmate calls, you will be ready to return to him - whole and untainted." 

Hermione shivered as Aradia's hands moved under her robe, and her lips parted in a moan that the Goddess swallowed with a searing kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ritual we've been waiting for! Hopefully, it meets expectations. What do you think Pansy & co have planned for poor Ronniekins? *Also can I confess that I did not plan on Aradia quite so... sexual... but apparently, Goddesses have needs too.


	8. Ruination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My distraction tactic continues. We're nearing the end of this one loves, and I'm beyond excited to see what you think.

###  **_(viii) ruination_ **

Pansy glanced to the side, where Hermione had been for most of the ritual. Instead of seeing the other woman, she saw only a pile of ash. "Bring me the cauldron," she said, dragging herself closer to the pile. 

"Here, you are Ms. Parkinson." Pansy looked up to the face of her former teacher. Professor Septima Vector smiled warmly at her. "You must act quickly to complete the spell." 

Pansy nodded, carefully levitating the pile of ash into the cauldron that Septima had set before her. 

Around her, she could feel the five other women join them. One by one, they removed their masks. Susan Bones lit a fire under the cauldron as Andromeda Tonks conjured a chair for Minerva McGonagall. "Don't forget the onion skin and the rosemary," she told Pansy as she sat in the chair with a grateful smile to Andromeda. 

Nodding, Pansy tipped the first vial with Hermione's pubic hairs into her mortar and pestle before adding the burnt onion skin, rosemary, and salt. She passed it to Angelina Johnson, who began grinding the powder to dust. Luna added several radishes and powder Griffin horns. 

"Now the tears," dictated Pansy, "It should turn into a purple paste." Angelina nodded as Luna tipped four drops of Hermione's tears into the pestle. They all leaned back as a poof of smoke left the pestle. 

Smiling at each other, the women pressed on. Working in tandem as time continued to tick by. They were grinding ingredients, giving guidance, adding tears, blood, hair, ash. Elements both magical and mundane went into the mortar or cauldron as directed. Finally, the cauldron was bubbling with a thick paste—the color a vibrant purple with shimmering flecks of silver and gold. 

They were ready. 

Septima, Andromeda, and Minerva worked together to create a large glass box. Luna and Susan filled it with water charged by the waning moon. Pansy and Angelina carefully levitated the cauldron above it. 

"Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust" chanted the seven women. "May your soul return when it's safe among us." They poured the mixture until the cauldron was empty and set it aside. 

Upon the top, they each placed one last ingredient beginning with Minerva, "Archangel root," she said, spreading the tawny root across the top, "to enhance your feminine magical power and strength, and to protect you, child."

Next, Septima sprinkled wood betony over that, "For protection, purification, healing fears and banishing the darkness from your life." 

Andromeda replaced Septima and splashed a vial of dragon's blood upon the mixture, "For protection, love, and healing, so you may be rekindled with the fire deep within your core."

"To return sweetness to your life," began Angelina pouring a large pail of honey across the top, "and remind you that you are a queen."

"Blue salt," added Susan, sprinkling it with her fingers, "for justice and healing and protection from those that would seek to do you harm in this life or the next."

"Yarrow for courage, friendship, and emotional healing," added Pansy, laying the tiny blooms upon the surface.

"Moonstone," began Luna, dropping golf ball-sized crystals into the four corners of the container, "to support you through this change and provide protection as you walk down this new path."

The seven women formed a circle around the large pillar of liquid they had created. "Ashes to ashes," they canted, "Dust to dust. Aradia grant this prayer for us. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. May your soul return when it's safe among us." 

Magic swirled around them as they repeated their chant. The temperature dropped and the air thickened, but the seven women remained rooted to the spot. As they canted their prayer for the seventh time, the wind shifted, and the world grew silent, when suddenly lightning struck, shattering the glass container. Each woman closed their eyes and turned their heads, but they were left unharmed. 

In the center of their circle, now only sat a lump of clay and a bar of copper. Pansy smirked as she saw it and lifted her eyes to the sky. " Our circle is closed but open. Thank you, Aradia, for hearing our prayer."

"What will you do with that?" asked Susan in confusion. 

"I know someone," Pansy replied neutrally, signaling for her elves to remove the two materials. "Shall we move on to Ronald?"

***   
  


In Italy, Draco awoke from a drunken slumber with a start. His body drenched in sweat. Beside him, Theo grumbled in his sleep before rolling over. Draco's heart raced, and he struggled to catch his breath for several moments. He shook Theo violently to wake him to no avail.

"Theo, you fuck, wake up. Something's wrong."

"What?" muttered Theo, sitting up. "Holy fuck, mate, the bed's soaked." Theo's eyes traveled to his friend. "NIghtmare."

Draco rubbed his sternum absently. "I think," he gasped, fighting the pain in his chest, "I think something's happened to Hermione."

"Can you not feel her?" asked Theo, suddenly more alert.

"Barely," whispered Draco. It had felt like he was being burned alive. Like the fire he associated with her had been stoked to its breaking point before being doused. He could feel a flicker, the tiniest ember of her magic, but it was nothing compared to what it usually sat at. "I think," he said at long last, meeting the eyes of his best friend, "something's happened to her."

"It's Samhain," began Theo, his voice drifting slightly as he yawned, "Perhaps she's just exhausted from a family ritual? Can you imagine how much power she'd need for a Weasley ritual?"

Draco nodded absently as he continued to rub at his sternum. The ache in his chest was so different from any sensation he'd ever felt. 

He was exhausted from his own Samhain ritual with Theo. They'd performed it in the ritual circle hidden beneath the shop floor. They'd cleansed the space and made their offerings not to their ancestors as was tradition, but to Hephaestus, Hestia, and a few other Gods and Goddesses. Draco had felt strangely pulled to make an offering to Diana and her daughter Aradia., and Theo had been wise enough not to comment as he added herbs and libations to the altar. They had lit the furnace they used to melt the metals for pouring and set several cauldrons inside. One by one, they had placed various projects in the cauldrons. Returning clay to clay, wax to wax, and metal to metal as they released the energy of works unfinished or that they had been unhappy with. 

All the while, Draco had felt a buildup of the fire within him. Hermione's magic. There had been a new sensation within his magic when Draco felt a flood of peace sweep through him. He hadn't felt anything like it since the moment he'd held her in his arms, but as quick as he had thought it, it was gone. 

Draco had dismissed it as he and Theo drank the night away, but now he worried if he was wrong too.

"No sense in fretting," Theo yawned. "I'm sure she's fine." Theo dried the sheets with a wave of his wand and gave Draco a wan smile. "Go back to sleep, Drake. We can try and check on your girl in the morning."

Draco watched as Theo laid his head back down and drifted back to sleep. He was sure Theo was right. It was probably nothing. Just a trick of Samhain. Draco rubbed his chest again absently as he laid back down.

"Be safe, my love," he whispered into the darkness. He closed his eyes as his thoughts drifted to the curly-haired witch that could never be his. He would dream of her as he so often did and wake tomorrow to continue his life without her. 

***

"Drake? I need to talk with you, mate."

Draco looked up from where he was finishing a new round of miniatures for the gallery to see the concerned face of Theo standing in front of him. "What's wrong?" asked Draco, setting his tools aside. 

"The Chronicles," began Theo swallowing, "The Italian version of the Prophet, you know?"

"Yes," replied Draco, unsure of where the conversation was going. 

"You were right," Theo said, simply handing Draco the newspaper. "Your girl's not okay."

Draco's brow knit in confusion as he took the proffered paper, and felt his heart sink as he read the headline: 

**_Golden Girl Missing_ **

**_The Golden Trio Relationships a Lie!_ **

_ With great sadness, the Daily Prophet reports that one of the UK’s most beloved Witches and decorated War-Heroine, Hermione Jean Granger Weasley, Order of Merlin 1st class, is missing presumed dangerously injured. The guilty party? Her husband Ronald Billius Weasley, Order of Merlin, 1st class. _

_ The tragic story was unveiled behind a closed emergency session of the Wizengamot yesterday evening when Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped in front of the assembled body, not as their Minister for Magic, but as a concerned father.  _

_ "On the evening of Samhain, I, like many of you, gathered with my family for a time of celebration and renewal. Unfortunately, our evening did not go as planned, as my daughter in magic, Hermione Jean Granger Weasley, never arrived." _

"What the fuck does he mean? she never arrived?" exclaimed Draco. "Where the fuck is she?"

"Oh," stated Blaise walking in, "You've heard the news."

"Theo just handed me this," grumbled Draco crumpling the newspaper in his hands. 

"It's all over the wireless," stated Blaise, "The UK is doing a nationwide witch hunt. Looking for any information on her whereabouts." Blaise lowers his eyes, "It's not looking good, mate."

"What's not looking good?" asked Draco, rubbing at his sternum. "She's just missing."

"No, Drake," replied Theo, tapping the paper, "It's more than that. Keep reading." 

Draco looked from one friend and then to the other and felt his heart sink. He could sense their magic just on the periphery of his - watching and waiting. He knew what that meant. "How bad?"

"Weasel Bee is in Azkaban."

"The abuse?" asked Draco, skimming the paper. 

"Everything. The abuse, loyalty charms. Old Molly's been brought up on charges for using substances to control a peer cause of Potter."

"No shit," mumbled Draco, continuing to read the paper. "She hid memories of his abuse and Molly confessing to the whole thing in the spice jars?"

Blaise chuckled, "Apparently, the ginger menace hates to cook and hates spice. So she used all the herb jars in the kitchen to hide vials of memories."

"But the loyalty charms?" asked Draco, lowering the paper again, "Wouldn't they have prevented that?"

"Not if she had no plans actually to use them."

"She found a loophole," mused Theo. 

"Of course, she did," smirked Draco. "I knew she'd find her way out eventually," he added, returning his attention to the paper. Theo and Blaise exchanged looks of concern at their friend's words.

"Mate..." began Theo, rubbing his face tiredly. "She didn't get out."

"No, of course, she did," countered Draco, "She had to have." But it was there in black and white in front of him. 

The newspaper detailed the case report and the Wizengamot trial: how Kinglsey found the door ajar and Ron unconscious inside, how someone had blocked the floo, and how their home was filled with smoke from Hermione’s belongings smoldering in the fire. Several eyewitnesses reported a woman in the Leaky claiming that she had gone home with Ron only for his wife to arrive home unexpectedly and flee as spells started to fly. Aurors reports of spellfire. 

Finding Hermione's wand, and then Ron's wand. The  _ Priori Incantatem  _ revealed that she had cast defensive and shield charms, whereas Ron’s showed that he cast Dark spells. 

Draco felt his mouth go dry as he read the words. "All three Unforgivable," he whispered. 

"Immediate life sentence to Azakabhan," murmured Theo, and Draco nodded. He knew that. All the Purebloods did. If you were ever daft enough to use the Unforgivables, you knew not to get caught since they were so powerful and so malign they carried a life sentence. Each. 

"She's not dead," Draco said, vehemently throwing down the paper suddenly. "She's not. I can feel her," he said, pointing to his chest, "in here."

"Drake."

"No. She's alive. There's no body. And as long as there's no body, there's a chance. Right?" he met the eyes of his two oldest friends. His magic drifted over his skin—the icy coolness threatening to burst forth at any moment. "Right?" he demanded.

"Right," replied Theo softly. "And Weasley got what was coming to him."

"They both did," conferred Blaise. "And Hermione and Harry are free."

"She's not dead," protested Draco again, standing from his workbench. "She's not."

"Whatever you say, Drake," replied Theo holding his hands up in supplication. Draco nodded at him before exiting the room. Headed, they presumed to the kitchens to get a drink. Theo turned his attention to Blaise, "What do you know?"

"Why do you assume I know anything?"

"Cause you took your monthly trip to the UK early last month, and Pansy went with you."

"She just wanted some new materials," Blaise replied dismissively. 

"That's what mail orders for," hissed Theo. "Now, tell me the truth."

"I can't," replied Blaise showing him his arm. Theo's eyes widened as he took in the unmistakable band of golden magic around his friend's arms. 

"I hope you two know what the fuck you're playing at. I don't know if I can pull his ass out of the bottom of bottle again."

"Brother, if she's dead," began Blaise, his eyes drifting in the direction Draco had walked out minutes before, "we may never be able to save him again."

"Goddess help us," murmured Theo, closing his eyes with a sigh.


	9. Creation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me just dropping this off here. I did edit the chapter count, but I promise only two more to go and one is already written *bites nails*
> 
> As a reminder my beta hasn't seen this yet, hoping she forgives me for dropping beforehand. 
> 
> Stay safe loves! xx the Wordsmith

###  **_(ix) Creation_ **

"That is the most hideous statue I've ever seen. Who the fuck created that?" fumed Draco glaring at the newspaper article Pansy had given him that morning. "It doesn't even look like her."

Pansy merely nodded, sipping her coffee. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Do about it?" Draco asked, dropping the paper. "Why on earth would I do anything? Especially for the fools over at the British Ministry of Magic?"

"I just thought you'd want something better for her. Maybe it would bring her comfort or make her come out of hiding if she saw that you had designed a statue for her." Draco sat contemplating her words, his eyes returning to the awful statue in the paper. "I happen to have special ordered some new clay you might like to try," added Pansy. "You know if you change your mind."

"What are you up to?" asked Draco, eyeing her skeptically.

"I'm hurt," replied Pansy. "And here I was just trying to do something nice for you."

Draco scoffed. "Nice isn't in your vocabulary, Pans."

"Sure it is," she purred. "It's nice when I suck your cock, or let you fuck me." Draco rolled his eyes. "And when I make you crepes."

Theo laughed as he joined them, "Oh yes, the once a year you cook."

"I have many other talents," sniffed Pansy.

Theo hummed under his breath in faux agreement as he slid the paper over to himself. "What the fuck is that supposed to be? Surely not, Granger."

Pansy gave Draco a pointed look over the rim of her cup as Theo continued to mutter.

"Fine," huffed Draco, "I'll do it, but not for them - for me."

"Excellent," praised Pansy. "The clay is already in your workshop. In the ritual circle. I've already cleansed it."

Draco blew a breath out between his teeth as he rose from the table. "What'd I miss?" asked Theo glancing from one to the other. "Just us being played by our loveliest snake," replied Draco pausing to kiss Pansy's cheek as he walked by. "Thanks for the new clay Pansy. Let's go, Theo."

Theo hurriedly shoved a piece of toast into his mouth as he hurried after his friend, before doubling back to kiss Pansy on the cheek as well. He paused as she gazed smugly after Draco. "Do I want to know what you're up to?" he asked.

"Probably best if you don't."

"Plausible deniability," replied Theo with a nod of his head before walking out the door to catch up with Draco.

Pansy pulled the paper towards herself. "Thank you, Petra," she murmured, stroking the moving image of Kingsley and Harry revealing the new statue in the atrium of the Ministry. Petra had done an excellent job on the statue. It did look like Hermione, but instead of being the Hermione of today, it showed her fresh from the Battle of Hogwarts. She was too thin, too young, and too naïve, with a book in one hand and her wand in the other. Her hair wasn't the beautiful riot of curls that they knew but was piled on to the top of her head in a sad bun. Pansy had fought for him to get the commission and then made sure Petra made it right, but not perfect. Meaning that it was nowhere near the level of quality that Draco would associate with his mentor or he would produce.

"Not much longer, Granger," she murmured, sipping her tea once again. 

Draco looked at the lump of clay Pansy left for him with a wary eye. It was a deeper color than he was used to, a vibrant purple instead of a deep burgundy, but he felt almost a comforting warmth when he touched it. "Still feels oil-based," he murmured to himself, pushing the clay with his fingers to test its pliability. "Soft." Humming to himself, he knelt before the clay, as he often did before he started a new project.

"I am the Dragon," he chanted, "the fire of Black Star Forge. Heat flows from my hands and into this work." He pulled a piece of the clay from the brick and worked it rhythmically between his fingers. "I call upon Hephaestus, God of the Forge and Sculpture. May you provide insight so that this clay reveals it's true form. May you guide my hands so that metal flows like water. I praise you, Hephaestus, for your gift of artistry. May I carry your name proudly, to create something of great beauty. May Lady Magic take this spark and infuse it into something divine. So, Mote, it Be."

"So Mote it be," echoed Theo from just outside the circle, and Draco smiled as he felt the swell and tingle of his best friend's magic meet his own within the circle. He returned the clay in his hands to the brick, kneading it into the whole. Draco felt his magic hum in contentment at the contact, and his brain began to work through the options available. He rubbed absently at his sternum as his magic stirred.

_ Hermione _ , he thought absently.  _ You're not gone, are you? I can feel you _ . His hands moved against the clay as a vision of her sprung to his mind. Vibrant and free.

"I know how I want to sculpt her," he said to Theo, rising. "We're gonna need an armature and foam."

"We're going to go life-sized?" gaped Theo.

Nodding, Draco lifted the clay off the floor. "I can see her." 

For weeks, Draco painstakingly worked on applying the clay to the form he and Theo created. Shaping and carving and adding detail after detail to the structure. He spent days on her hair, ensuring each curl was just right. He added falling leaves to her hair and the outer cape he'd given her. Symbolizing the month of her birth and the time of year, she disappeared. He added two small snakes as straps to the sandals on her feet. He blushed as he sculpted her breasts and the curve of her hip, imagining what she would look like, healthy and whole instead of gaunt and half-starved. His hands moved of their own will as he carved her face from memory. The soft roundness of her cheek and the slope of her forehead. Her lips rich and full, and her eyes clear and bright.

"She's perfect," breathed Blaise walking into the room one afternoon.

Theo nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I keep telling him."

"She's almost there," agreed Draco stepping back to see her fully. She still stood a head under him, but there was no longer a frailness to the form in front of him.

"It's time to pour," stated Pansy joining the trio.

"You think?" asked Draco, eyeing her, and then the statue with a critical eye.

"Yes," confirmed Pansy moving to walk around the sculpture. "There are no more fingerprints. Everything is clean. You've brushed over every curl and leaf." She turned her attention once again to Draco. "It's time."

Draco nodded, and Theo whooped with joy.

Slowly, the process continued. 

The duo separated her robe, from the form, along with the bluebell flame and her hair. Over the next several days, Theo and Draco applied layers of rubber to create a mold of each piece, with the most extensive mold being Hermione's body itself. Upon completion, they encased each piece in plaster, forming a hard jacket to protect the delicate rubber within. They allowed the jackets to dry and set before they cracked each one open. Blaise was called in to help them carefully remove the mold from the larger form and cut the rubber along the seams. Once they successfully removed all the clay and cleaned the rubber molds, Draco and Theo clamped each negative together.

Pansy joined in to paint layers of wax in the smaller pieces as Theo and Blaise levitated the larger piece while Draco applied layers of resin inside. On and on they went, reapplying wax in preparation for the next stage until finally, the wax was over one-quarter inch thick all over. They waited days to peel the rubber forms. 

When the time came for the next step, they used their wands to chase the wax, filling in any gaps and holes as they went. They corrected each tiny imperfection, and once Draco had declared the wax sculpture as perfect as the original clay, they prepared to fill the form with wax fully. They used sticking charms to attach the shapes to specially formed wax rods and gates for the final pour. 

Draco set each piece together, inspecting the fully formed wax mold. His desire to get her just right, making him double and triple-check their work along the way. 

"She's gonna be fucking great," commented Theo. "Easily your best piece."

Draco just nodded in response, his eyes trained to pick up any remaining flow or imperfection. "Almost there," he said at last. "Time for the shell." Theo gave him a high five and called for Blaise and Pansy to join them. 

"You'll are killing me," grumbled Blaise. "I sell this shit, not create it. I thought you weren't interested in doing shit with others."

Theo laughed as Pansy nodded her head thoughtfully. Draco paused after applying the first coat of slurry to take in his friends. "I don't mind doing it alone," he said at last. "Just remember the longer it takes me to finish her, the longer it takes me to make anything new to sell."

"Fuck that," replied Blaise, levitating the next piece, "Come on, look alive, people. Let's get this show on the road." 

Theo chuckled and gave Draco another high five as even Pansy stepped forward to levitate the next place into the slurry. "You couldn't have thought of that sooner," muttered Theo to Draco as they added more ceramic to the next slurry bucket. 

Draco's head fell back into with a rich laugh. "Can't use it too often, or we'll never get anything from them. Can't have them getting callouses." Theo choked down his laugh as Pansy glared at the pair, and they continued on, speeding up the process up when they could with the use of heating and drying charms between ever-increasing layers of ceramic slurry.

"Big day," commented Theo as they moved on the next day. Draco nodded, bumping the fist Theo proffered with his own. Together they carefully placed the various ceramic shells they had created into the large autoclave on the far side of the shop. Focusing all his attention on his magic, Draco cast  _ Incendio Maxima  _ in the side of the oven, allowing the temperature within to rise to well over 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit quickly. As the wax inside the shell melted, the outside of the surface hardened.

"Getting closer," murmured Draco as the refired the now empty shells in preparation for the bronze casting.

"Pansy said she'd get the bronze ready," said Theo joining Draco at the oven. "She had some new copper and tin she specially ordered for you to add to the bronze."

Draco eyed him for a moment before looking over to the opposite side of the large shop where Pansy stood, adding blocks of metal to a large cauldron. "That doesn't seem suspect to you?" asked Draco. "Pansy suddenly has special clay for me to use and now new copper?"

Theo mopped the sweat from his brow. "Come on, mate. She's as invested in this too, and just wants this to be perfect for you." Draco nodded, feeling selfish for not trusting his friend. "We all do." Draco met his friend's eyes, and Theo asked him the one question they had all been avoiding, "Still believe she's alive?"

Nodding, Draco rubbed at his sternum, "Yeah. It's not much, but she's here."

"I believe you," replied Theo, clapping his hand upon Draco's shoulder. "I'm gonna get the pouring floor ready - unless you need me to go supervise Pans?"

Draco shook his head, "It's alright, get the sand. The pieces are almost cooled. I wanna get everything poured by the end of the day if we can."

"We can do it," Theo responded. "We'll be opening this casts within the week and metal chasing by the end of the month. Just you wait."

"Won't Blaise be thrilled? Just in time for me to start retaking commissions for Lithia," mused Draco.

"Well, he is still sore. You refused all orders for Beltane."

"I wanted her done by Beltane," huffed Draco.

"And we're on track to meet that," confirmed Theo. "It's been a long few months, but she's worth it."

Draco gazed over the various shells around them. "Yes, she certainly is."

"Hey is this hot enough?" hollered Pansy. 

Draco rolled his eyes as Theo chuckled. "Okay, maybe you'll go supervise Pans while I get the pouring floor ready," said Theo.

"Sounds like a good plan," replied Draco, already making his way towards Pansy and the custom cauldron they used.

The foursome worked together to pour the molten bronze into each ceramic shell, filling each to the top. The following day, they shattered the outer shell with the spells Draco had personally created for the task once they were fully cool.

"You wanna do the metal chasing, or should I?" asked Theo as he inspected a few of the pieces.

"Together," replied Draco. "Tomorrow, we'll weld her back together." Theo nodded, pulling out his wand to help Draco.

"I've chosen the Patina colors based on your sketch," stated Pansy, who arrived the following day. Draco grunted in response as he and Theo carefully welded Hermione's hair into place after setting her cape just right.

"She still needs to be sand-blasted," Draco reminded her. lifting his helmet to inspect the weld, Theo had just made. "Good job, Theo."

"You know he wants to add touches of silver," Theo told Pansy by way of greeting.

"Yes, I saw. Blaise was thrilled with that expense."

"We can afford it," huffed Draco, flipping his helmet down and welding another joint. "It's not like I can't make it up to him with a dozen smaller pieces."

"He wants an extra two dozen by Samhain," Pansy replied, stepping back as a spark neared her. "And I need to know if you want the wax paste or different sealant for the patina."

Draco sighed. "I want the paste. Luna dropped off a package with new cloths, and they'll be perfect for removing it."

"New cloth?" asked Pansy.

"Yes," replied Draco, "She said they're made of  Acromantula  silk and  Demiguise  hair."

"Sounds too beautiful to use as a fucking cleansing cloth," commented Theo. "Watch the line, Drake."

Draco nodded, adjusting his welder. He flipped his helmet up as he blew on the piece. "I said the same thing, but you know how Luna is. Wouldn't take no for an answer and told me they were perfect my latest project," he added with a shrug. Theo nodded while Pansy merely smirked beside the two men.

The next few days were a blur to Draco as they reached the home stretch, and then on the Eve of Beltane, he stood before the finished sculpture.

She was done. 

"Drake," began Pansy stepping next to him, her throat catching. "She looks so real."

Draco beamed at his friend's words and draped his arm across her shoulder to pull her close. Pansy absently wiped at a tear that slid down her cheek. She wrapped her arms around his waist and stared in awe at his creation.

"Holy fuck mate," whistled Blaise coming to stand next to Pansy. "You've outdone yourself."

Theo clapped his hand upon Draco's shoulder. "She was touch and go there for a minute, but you should be proud of yourself. She's amazing."

Draco's cheeks pinked at their words, and he squeezed Pansy tighter. "Thanks for helping me bring her to life."

The foursome stood silently for a moment—each admiring the statue. The likeness was undeniable, but as they discussed the statue, they realized that they each saw something unique in her. 

"Is the bluebell flame dancing?" asked Blaise leaning forward slightly to look at the statue. In Hermione's outstretched palm on the very tip of her pointer finger was a bluebell flame. A faint glow dancing within its center.

"It's enchanted with my magic," admitted Draco. "As long as I can feel the flicker of her magic, it won't go out."

Blaise whistled lowly, "Mate, that's some next-level magic."

"Fucking soulmate bullshit," replied Theo, playfully knocking Draco's shoulder with his own.

"I needed to see it. As long as I can see that light, I have hope."

"Okay, now that's some Hufflepuff sentiment right there," remarked Blaise, squeezing Draco's shoulder. "We need to get you laid. Stat."

"That's Blaise's way of saying he wants to go out and celebrate," mused Pansy.

"You can't blame me. We've been working night and day. Day and night on this beast. Don't get me wrong," Blaise rushed on. "She's gorgeous, but it's time to focus on other shit- like getting laid."

"Exactly!" said Theo, high fiving Blaise behind Draco's back. 

"And then after Beltane," continued Blaise, "we can come back, refocus. Take some pictures of her. I'm seeing a bidding war over which Ministry is going to take her." The Italian man rubbed his hands together, gleefully at the prospect.

Draco glared at his best friend, "She's not for sale."

"Mate."

"No. She's not for sale."

"Are you just gonna give her to the Ministry, then?" asked Theo.

"I haven't decided," Draco admitted reluctantly, his eyes returning to the statue in front of them. "I made her for me."

"We could always put her in the Gallery," suggested Pansy, but at Draco's low growl, she paused. " Or we could put a photo of it in the gallery or maybe send a copy to Hogwarts? I'm sure McGonagall would put it in a place of honor." Beside her, Blaise rolled his eyes, and she smacked his chest. "We could still use her to show what Drake's capable of that way. Advertise for commissions without bringing crowds into the Gallery that would just fuss and fawn but not buy anything."

Blaise hesitated, but something in Pansy's body language made him pause. "Alright. She stays here, and we give a picture to Hogwarts, but I expect a lot of new stuff to sell by Mabon."

Draco rolled his eyes as Pansy kissed Blaise. It didn't matter to him where they sent a picture of her, as long as she stayed in house - where he could keep an eye on her. For once, the finished project was exactly as he had envisioned. The patina colors giving off a vibrancy and lifelike quality he'd never been able to capture before. The statue of Hermione was, for lack of a better word, perfect. 

The flame in her hand continued to glow, and he felt the pulse of her magic within him once again. Tonight, he would celebrate with his friends, and then for the first time since it had been announced that she was missing, Draco would get a good night's sleep. 


	10. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late, but I wanted to get this chapter out. There is one more to go and I am trying to decide what will be best. I guess you all could tell me what you hope for in the comments? Also, if you're reading VQL, there's an easter egg inside here for you. I do enjoy plagiarizing myself from time to time. And as the last few have been, this is untouched by my beta. I promise to seek her out again in the new year when I hope life has calmed down more for us all... Stay safe loves. xx the Wordsmith

###  **_(x) revelation_ **

Draco closed his eyes after another fitful day of creating. His head was full of thoughts and visions of Hermione. After many months, the sculpture was finally done, and while he was sure Blaise could sell her for a considerable amount, Draco couldn't bear to part with her. It wasn't just because it was Hermione or that a piece of his magic lay within it, but it was the most beautiful piece he'd ever done. 

For the first time in months, rest came easy for Draco. 

_ Draco found himself standing on a platform that remarkably appeared to be like 9 3/4 - complete with the Hogwarts Express. Draco would've believed he was there if it hadn't been for the absolute emptiness. Never in all his years of attending Hogwarts had he seen the station so peaceful and serene. He began to move towards the train when a familiar swishing sound caught his ear. Looking down, Draco was surprised to find himself dressed in his Hogwarts robes. His confusion continued as he suddenly heard feet clapping on the pavement.  _

_ "Oh, Draco! There you are! I've been looking for you!" Draco spun around to see the person who had spoken and was surprised when a girl with bushy hair and buck teeth glomped on to him. "Isn't it marvelous?" she began pulling back to stare at the train to her left. "Hogwarts at last!"  _

_ Draco felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "Hermione?" _

_ She turned to him, brown eyes dancing with excitement, "Well, who else would be hugging you like that? Certainly not Pansy," she giggled. "Come on. We mustn’t be late for the train." She took his hand and began pulling him towards the train. Draco briefly wondered where their trunks were as she pulled onto the train and down the corridor. Memories overwhelmed Draco as she steered him directly to the carriage he shared with friends every trip.  _

_ Hermione ducked her inside before squealing with delight, "Oh good! You're already here!"  _

_ "Where else would we be?" asked Theo. He stood from the seat and knocked Blaise's feet off the opposite one before plopping down next to him.  _

_ "I was comfortable," groused Blaise. _

_ "Yes, well, you know they can't stand to be separated," replied Theo, indicating Draco and Hermione. _

_ Hermione blushed prettily even as she pulled Draco fully into the carriage. "Thank you, Theo. You're my favorite today." _

_ Theo preened under her words, even as Blaise rolled his eyes. Both boys were smiling and looked lighter than Draco could recall ever seeing them. They were all dressed in their Hogwarts robe, their ties suspiciously missing.  _

_ "Ugh, there you are." Pansy flounced into the room with a put upon pout. "Would it have killed any of you to wait for me on the platform?" _

_ "Oh, I'm so sorry, Pans! You know how excited I get," said Hermione springing to her feet and towards the other girl. She hugged her, and while Pansy didn't return it, she didn't actively reject it the way Draco would've expected her to. _

_ "Yes, well. You are like a Cereberus chomping at the bit sometimes." _

_ "I blame all the hair," mused Theo. _

_ "No," countered Blaise, "it’s the three minds about everything." Both boys laughed as Hermione playfully kicked at them. _

_ "Here, Pansy, let me make it up to you. You can have the window seat, and I'll sit in the middle. Alright?" _

_ Pansy acted as though she was put out but made her way to the seat Hermione indicated. Hermione waited for her to get comfortable before sitting down between her and Draco.  _

_ "Isn't this exciting?" asked Hermione. "The five of us all together? We'll be sorted into the same house and be best friends forever." _

_ Theo and Blaise looked horrified at her words. "Drake, did you give her a cheering charm today? She's more giddy than usual." _

_ "Is it so wrong to be excited about a new adventure with your soulmate and best friend?" retorted Hermione. "Anyways, I've already had to promise Pansy that I wouldn't be a complete swot and recite everything I've learned from Hogwarts: a History."  _

_ "Well, thank Merlin for that. I don't know how you held on so tightly to Drake all summer and still managed to read the entire curriculum, Pages," said Blaise using the nickname he and Theo had come up with for the overexcited girl during the summer. _

_ "No, Blaise," chided Hermione, "just because you can't read."  _

_ Theo burst into laughter, and even Pansy tittered at the comeback. All the while, Draco tried to comprehend what on earth was happening.  _

_ "It's a pathway."  _

_ Draco's head snapped towards the door, and he felt himself sag with relief at the adult that now stood within the doorjamb. "Granger!" _

_ He stood and crossed to her, noting as he did so that she didn't look the same as she had when he'd seen her months prior. There was a youthful vitality to her that he had not seen in some time, and her clothes were different. "You have no idea how relieved I am to see you." _

_ Hermione smiled at him, "And I'm happy to see you." _

_ Laughter caught Draco's attention, and he turned back to look at the carriage. He was surprised to see his younger self, and her younger self still seated and laughing with his friends.  _

_ "Strange, isn't it?" mused grownup Hermione beside him. She stared transfixed at the group in front of preteens in front of them. "This is what it would've been like if your father had never obliviated me the first time." _

_ "What? How do you know about that?" _

_ Hermione's eyes drifted from the group to Draco. “I know a lot of things now." Her eyes returned to the inside of the carriage where a now older teenage Draco and Hermione sat, trading heated kisses and whispered words. Adult Draco gaped as his younger self slipped a hand up younger Hermione's blouse - resulting in giggles from both Hermione's. "As I said," older Hermione repeated as she took his hand. "Pathways." _

_ "I don't know what that means," Draco replied.  _

_ Hermione smiled, tugging his hand and leading him from the train. Draco's mouth dropped as they stepped not into Kings Cross or Hogsmeade, but a lush field. Hermione paused and took a deep breath.  _

_ "Beautiful, isn't it?" asked Hermione, not looking at him. Draco nodded as he gaped at the vast expanse of land before them. "It's definitely my favorite place here."  _

_ "And where is here exactly?" _

_ "Aradia calls it the in-between," said Hermione walking into the field.  _

_ Draco followed her, confused. "Aradia? The Goddess?" _

_ "The same." she paused. "She's the one that told me about the pathways. I've been exploring them since I got here." She tucked a flower into her hair. "I was hoping you'd feel the pull and come join me." _

_ "The pull? What pull, Hermione?" _

_ "I like when you say my name," she replied. She paused, eyeing him for a moment before she sighed. "The pull here," she said, touching his sternum delicately. "Think of the pathways as possibilities. Directions our lives could've taken if it weren't for bigoted fools or meddlesome old goats."  _

_ "Well, I think that's the nicest thing anyone has said about my father in some time," chuckled Draco.  _

_ Hermione burst into laughter at his words. "I'd apologize, but-" _

_ "No, need," replied Draco. "He deserves everything she gets." She nodded, rubbing her thumb against the back of the hand she was still holding. Draco looked at their intertwined hands. "I can touch you here." Her eyes dropped to the ground as she nodded. He swallowed, scared of the answer to his next question, "Are you dead?" _

_ "Aradia assured I'm not." _

_ "But the loyalty charms-" _

_ "Broken." _

_ "So you're free." _

_ Hermione glanced up at him. "Yes." _

_ "Thank the Goddess," replied Draco. He pulled her closer with the hand he was holding. He slid his other hand to her cheek and tilted her head up as he lowered his head to hers. His thumb brushed against her cheek as he savored the feeling of her mouth against his. He tilted her head to deepen the kiss and revealed in the sigh that escaped her mouth. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." _

_ "I have a pretty good idea," replied Hermione, placing a kiss in his palm.  _

_ "You probably do," conceded Draco before brushing his lips against hers again. "How long do we have?" he asked against her lips.  _

_ "Until morning." _

_ Draco pulled back and smirked, "Plenty of time." _

_ * _

And so it went—day after day. Until days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months.

Draco worked in the shop day after day. Working himself harder and hard so that every night, he fell asleep, exhausted by his work. At night, Draco laid in his bed, closed his eyes with only one thought on his mind, Hermione. And when he opened his eyes again, she was there. Or rather, he was there, in the place in his dreams where Hermione now dwelled. “The in-between,” she called it more than once.

He could care less what it was called, only that she was there with him. He savored every moment. Every kiss. Every touch. Every chance he had to be with the woman he loved.

Hermione grew more radiant with every visit. She led him to new pathways she'd discover during the day and regaled him with stories of vengeance and retribution by the side of Aradia. Hermione was no longer the shell of a woman that she had been on Earth. She was becoming a Goddess, and Draco worshipped her dutifully.

But the more time they spent in her world, the more Draco felt that their time was growing shorter. No matter how tired he was, the mornings came faster, and instead of the rested and relaxed felt, he now woke tired and agitated. He was volatile at best, during the day, and longing for the time when he could get back to his dreams, where Hermione stay.

Until one day, he went to go to bed and found Luna in his room. He paused, surprised to see the other blonde in his room. "Luna. I didn't know you were here."

She smiled at him, and patted the bed - his bed, and invited him to sit down, "Oh yes, I got here earlier today. I brought Harry."

"Potter? Why is Potter here? When did he get here?" asked Draco, refusing to move from his spot at the door.

"Days ago. It's no surprise you didn't notice. The wrackspurts are quite thick here currently. The worst I've seen in some time." Draco nodded, used to hearing about the different creatures in Luna's world. She sighed and walked towards him, her bright pink glasses unnerving him in the dim light of his bedroom. "I brought him here to escape England."

"Why?"

She smiled, "Because he needed to escape. And this seemed the perfect place for the brokenhearted." Draco nodded. Even if he didn't quite understand or like it. He couldn't begrudge Potter the sanctuary their life provided. Not that he had even noticed the other man's presence. "So many wrackspurts," murmured Luna looking around Draco's head. "You need to tell Hermione that it's time to come home."

Draco blinked as her words shook him from his thoughts on Potter. "What?"

"Hermione. It's time she returned."

"I don't know what you mean," he stammered.

"Your aura is tinted with her magic," Luna replied. She tilted her head to the side, "And Aradia's. Our Goddess’s magic is especially attractive towards Blibbering Humdingers. No wonder you're so angry these days." Draco nodded mutely, unsure of what else to say. Luna lifted her glasses and eyed him closely. "Harry will be staying here for some time. I expect that you'll not be seeing Theo in your bed again, so do tell Hermione to hurry back to take his place." Draco stared at her dumbfounded, but she just smiled sweetly at him. "We're not meant to live in the place between wakefulness and dreams, Draco. It's time to choose your path."

Draco nodded again; her words slowly sinking in. She kissed both his cheeks and wished him goodnight. He stood in his doorway and watched her walk down the hall. His eyes dropped to the floor as he processed her words. 

Luna paused at the end of the hall, "Draco?" His eyes snapped up to meet hers, and he vaguely noted that she was standing outside Blaise's bedroom. "You'll tell her, won't you? When you see her tonight?"

Clearing his throat, Draco replied, "I'll tell her." 

She smiled at him and nodded at him, "Goodnight." 

"Goodnight," he replied, but she had already opened the door to Blaise's room and stepped inside. His eyes drifted down the hall to the various bedroom doors. Who else was here, he thought absently? He thought to listen for a moment, to see what he could hear, but wisely thought against it. It wasn't up to him to monitor his friends’ bedroom activities - not even if they included Potter. He shuddered as he finally entered his room and shut the door. He looked longingly at his bed, wondering if perhaps Luna was right. It was time to choose a path and a way forward. 

*

_ "Hermione," Draco began, "I have something serious to discuss with you."  _

_ "Hmmm," she rolled to her side. Her naked flesh cool against his heated body. Draco trailed a hand down her back to her buttocks, squeezing it briefly before reaching down to hook her leg over his body. Hermione sighed at the contact and snuggled closer to him.  _

_ Draco drew runes on her skin absently as he spoke, "Do you ever think of leaving this place?" _

_ He felt her lashes flutter against his chest. "What do you mean?" _

_ "You know what I mean, love." _

_ "I-I suppose I'll have to one day."  _

_ "One day soon, perhaps?" she pulled back slightly, "Why do you ask?" _

_ Draco continued to rub runes across her skin. Protection. Health. Love. Success. Healing. "People are beginning to give up hope."  _

_ "People?" _

_ "You were declared presumed dead two days ago, love." _

_ Draco felt her breath catch at his words, and when she pushed against his body to let her go. Draco dropped his arms as she sat up. "Well, I'm not dead. I'm not." _

_ "I know that love," replied Draco, sitting up to join her. "I know that love because I can see you here, and I feel you here," he said, tapping his chest. "But people like Harry and Kingsley can't love. They miss you." _

_ Hermione wiped a tear from her cheek. "Well, they'll just have to hold out hope then." She turned to meet Draco's eyes. "cause I'm not ready." _

_ "You'll never be ready, love." _

_ "I will. I'll know," she exclaimed, standing up suddenly. "I don't want to go back. You can't make me go back." _

_ Draco stood slowly. "And I won't make you come back, but I can't keep coming here." _

_ "Yes, you can. Don't you love it here?" _

_ "Of course, I do," replied Draco, pulling her close. "I get to be here with you. I can fuck you and make you love to you and dream under the stars with you." _

_ "Then why can't you stay?" _

_ Draco pulled back slightly so he could look into her face. "because this isn't real, love." _

_ "It is." _

_ "No, love. It's a dream - a beautiful, elaborate, wonderful dream, but it's a dream nonetheless." _

_ Shoving him, Hermione stepped back. Her hair crackled with magic. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her back to him.  _

_ "It can be real, Hermione," he said, reaching out to touch her. Hermione shrugged him off and took another step away. Sighing, Draco willed his clothes on. "Aradia told you this wasn't permanent." Hermione huffed. "I can't tell you how long you're healing can take, but I can say that you've been gone for nearly a year already."  _

_ She turned back to face him. "No. No, it's only been a few weeks." _

_ Draco smiled sadly at her. "No love. It's been nearly a year. Trust me. I've marked each and every day." Hermione's shoulders slumped and he carefully stepped closer to her. Tentatively he reached out, and she fell into his arms with a sob. "I love you," he whispered into her hair as he comforted her. "I love you with all my heart, but Samhain is just a few days away. Our time here is almost up, Hermione." He tipped her head back and rubbed the tears from under her eyes. Dropping his head, he placed a tender kiss on her lips before stepping back from her. "Whatever you decide, I'll always love you, Hermione. Remember that." _

_ Hermione stared at him with wide eyes, "Draco, I-" _

"OUT OF BED SLEEPYHEAD!" 

Draco's eyes flew open as his bedding was ripped from his body. "Theo, I swear to Salzar!"

"Tut tut. You told me not to let you sleep the days away from the way you have been for the last few weeks. Pansy said we've got 13 more orders due before Samhain."

"I remember."

"Well, you can't be off in La La Land when we've got molten bronze to pour."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Merlin, you're worse than Snape used to be."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Don't you dare go back to sleep, Drake. I'll bring back the bucket." 

"You do that, and I'll return the favor to you and Potter at 3 a.m."

Theo's eyes opened wide, and he began to stammer a response, but Draco waved his hand dismissively. "If you're happy, I'm happy." 

Swallowing, Theo nodded. "I'm happy," he replied softly. "I like him a lot." 

Draco rolled his eyes. "You like him a lot? What are we 14 again?"

Theo threw the crumpled duvet back at him. "Be nice, or I'm telling Pansy."

Draco rolled his eyes as the other man left the room, a spring in his step and whistling. Theo happy was a new thing for Draco to see.  _ How could he have missed it? _ He wondered as he watched his friend walk down the hall and disappear. He rubbed his sternum as his mind drifted back to his conversation with Hermione. He had no idea what she was going to say, and worse, what she was going to do, but he knew that Luna had been right - it was the right thing to do. Hermione had been gone for almost one year. It was time to either go forward or let go. 

Setting his feet on the floor, Draco rested his head in his hands. He could feel Hermione’s magic bubbling underneath his own, but there was something else. Fear perhaps or doubt. 

“Luna said you have to take a dreamless sleep potion tonight.”

He looked up into the brown eyes of his best friend. “And if I don’t want to?”

“It doesn’t matter,” shrugged Blaise leaning against the door jamb. “You have to take it for the next three nights.”

Draco’s head dropped back into his hands, “Until Samhain.”

He didn’t have to look up to know that Blaise was nodding his head. “Until Samhain,” he agreed, sitting down beside his friend. “You have to do a special ritual on Samhain.”

“We have our own Samhain ritual,” grumbled Draco.

Blaise cleared his throat, “The Daughters of Vega have given you a ritual to perform.”

Draco’s head snapped up, but Blaise’s eyes were on the ceiling.

_ The Daughters of Vega. _

It was a coven every family within the Sacred 28 had heard of, but one few could confirm existed. Draco and his friends had long wondered if their mothers had been part of the Coven, and they knew that the Grimoire Pansy favored had its roots in the Coven. It was rumored that the witches that moved within the coven were the most powerful magicals on the planet and that Voldermort and Dumbledore had both actively tried and failed to gain their favor at one point or another during their lifetimes. 

"No man practices with the Daughters of Vega," stated Draco.

"Only those that are invited," clarified Pansy from the doorway. Draco met her eyes and noted a steely resolve he hadn't seen in sometime. "And we are inviting you. The Goddess has something which belongs to us. It's time she returned it."

"You would petition a Goddess?" gaped Draco as Pansy smirked. "On Samhain?" she shrugged her shoulders. "Have you lost your mind?" he demanded, jumping to his feet. HIs magic crackled in the air around him, but Pansy merely stood firmly in front of him. She planted her feet and twirled her fingers in the air. Draco yelped as he was thrown against the wall and pinned there. 

Pansy walked into the room, her hair electric with power. When she opened her mouth to speak, it echoed and bounced around the room. "A bargain was struck, and the terms were met. It is time. You are needed to see it through. You will participate actively or lose what you had forever." She paused in front of Draco, her brown eyes swirling with a power he'd never seen before. 

He squinted his eyes as Pansy's features shifted and changed. Her skin glowing faintly as her eyes took on an otherworldly hilt. Magic wrapped around him as she spoke again, her voice haunting and ethereal, "Your mate is perfect and wonderful. I would keep her for myself and make love to her every day, but she is promised to you, and so she cannot stay. Perform the ritual as commanded, young Dragon, so that your fire may be returned to you, or release her to me and feel the ice of your magic alone running through your veins."

Draco paled as comprehension dawned on him. "Aradia," he breathed. 

"I will miss watching you enjoy her, pleasuring her in ways she'd never had before. If she returns to you, I will expect yearly rituals of gratitude in my name." Draco nodded despite himself and shivered as her hand stroked his cheek. "Listen to the Coven and protect all within your house. Shed your tears, fight your battles, bleed upon the ground, and let it all go. Whether the ritual is one of release or renewal is up to her," Draco nodded once more and closed his eyes as her lips met his. 

Aradia moved her mouth against his, slipping her tongue into his mouth as he gasped. She tasted divine but her mouth felt wrong to Draco. So very, very wrong. The moment the thought struck him, the kiss ended, sending him and Pansy to the ground exhausted as the Goddesses withdrew her presence and magic. 

"I think," panted Draco from the floor, his eyes drifting first to Pansy beside him and then Blaise as he rushed to their side. "That you two have some explaining to do."


	11. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well loves, here we are. The last chapter. Thank you to those of you that have read and commented on every single chapter and supported me as I worked through this piece. It is my darkest piece to date and there were many tears shed through the writing process. 
> 
> Special thanks again to the Mourning Madam for hosting this fest. Thank you to PotionChemist for listening to my ideas, and epic beta skills (when I was brave enough to reach out). And thank you to EscapingArtist for being my favorite emotional support trellis.
> 
> This last chapter has once again been looked over by Grammarly, cause it's the Holidays and I'm a chicken. Easter eggs within for readers of my other WIPS cause yes, I do enjoy plagiarizing my own ideas from time to time. I hope you enjoy it!

##  (xi) acceptance

Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Harry gathered around the ritual circle in the shop. Their skin glowed from the ritual cleansing, and only Harry's skin had a red tint to it from the deep blush he wore after seeing them all naked as they cleansed and donned their ritual robes. 

"What do I do?" asked Harry, shifting uncomfortably.

"You relax," huffed Pansy with a roll of her eyes. "This is a ritual, not a funeral."

"Didn't you ever attend the Weasley rituals?'' asked Blaise.

"Not like this," admitted Harry. "I-I," he blushed and dropped his gaze. "I was never included in the actual ritual circles. They gave me something to drink usually, and when I would wake up, everything would be done and over."

"All that power," mused Pansy, "just completely wasted."

"It's really ridiculous when you think about it," agreed Blaise. Draco rolled his eyes at his friends as he crossed to Harry. 

"You have to reach into your magic," he said, meeting the other man's eyes. "It's here," he tapped Potter's chest with a finger. "You have to reach into the very center of who you are. It's deeper than the feeling you use for a Patronus, and it's to be more clear than the image you hold in your mind when you apparate." 

Harry bobbed his hand in a semblance of a nod. Draco nudged Harry towards the circle, positioning him over a rune "Uruz for power." 

"Do you all have runes to stand on?" asked Harry looking around the room. 

"Yes," replied Draco as the others began to move into position. He turned his attention back to Harry. "You have to think about fucking Theo." Harry flushed crimson at the blonde's words, but Draco pressed on. "Close your eyes." He waited for Harry to do as he was told. 

"Nothing bad will happen to you in this place," reminded Pansy from beside him. "Like I told you when you got here." 

Harry nodded and closed his eyes, "Think about that feeling of being with him - of chasing that high to come, of the release that follows. Reach inside yourself and chase that feeling, and call your magic to you. Feel it rush up and over your skin and then..." Harry opened his eyes - surprised to see Draco no longer standing in front of him. "And then what?" Harry asked.

"And then you let go," replied Theo. Harry watched as Theo closed his eyes and his aura flared slightly before a golden hue moved over his skin. Harry's eyes moved around the circle, and he watched in awe as each of the Slytherins tapped into their cores. Their magic visibly dancing across their skin. "I've never seen anything like it," he breathed. 

"It's quite the sight, isn't it?" Harry yelped, as a woman's voice caressed his skin. "So jumpy young Mage." 

"Who are you?" asked Harry. 

"Aradia." Harry's eyes widened as the name was said around the circle. The Goddess behind him preened. "I do love when you all gather," she mused, stepping around Harry. "So much power and strength. You are truly a wondrous group. Individually so strong, but together," she hummed in appreciation as she walked within the circle. She knelt and corrected a rune and then stood once again. "And now you have balance," she added, looking to Harry. 

She stopped in front of Pansy and stroked her cheek. "You have done so well. You will remain the High Witch of the Daughters of Vega. Your vengeance and sense of justice and loyalty will continue to yield incredible results." 

The boys watched as Pansy's skin pinked slightly at the praise. "Thank you, Aradia, but I thought I was merely holding the position for-"

Aradia pressed her finger to Pansy's lips, silencing the woman. "It matters not what happens here tonight, you will continue to be the High Witch, and I will expect a sex ritual in the spring," her eyes danced across the circle, "any of these will do nicely for it." Pansy blushed deeply again and nodded. "As you wish." 

"Good girl." Aradia turned to Blaise. "You have made many promises and been a boon to your house. Continue along your path and listen to your little witch. She will not lead you astray." Blaise nodded. "And sex rituals?"

"Always the cheeky one," she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, devouring him hungrily. "Yes," she said, pulling away, "Yes, I will greatly enjoy sex rituals with you. Have your witch lead the rite, and perhaps I will join you- though I must warn you that you may not survive it. I am, after all, a Goddess."

"But what a way to go," Blaise mused, his eyes hazy with lust. 

Aradia's rich laugh filled the space as she moved to Theo, "You will keep him safe. He has been far too long with no shelter or safe haven." Theo visibly swallowed, knowing without looking just who 'he' was. "He will give you a sense of purpose you have not had. You will train him in the ways of your ancestors, and then when the time is right, return to the House of Lord and enact my vengeance on those fools. I am tired of the way they play games and manipulate each other." She paused, "I will send you help. Expect the Desterrados Maxia to contact you. Kiyoshi and Tyr would be most interested in having you amongst them, I think."

"The Desterrados? I thought they were a myth," breathed Theo, blinking in confusion. 

"Yes," replied Aradia, "Like the Daughters of Vega, and yet their current acting High Witch stands amongst you." The smile she gave him was condescending at best, and Theo gulped. "Yes, Goddess."

"Much better," she returned her attention to Harry. "I have told your sister that those that hurt you have been dealt with, and I will reassure you as well." 

"My sister?" Harry's eyes widened, and he looked at Draco, who nodded before he returned his attention to Aradia. "Hermione?"

"You are quicker than she gives you credit for." she ran a finger along his scar, healing it until it was barely visible. "You are marked by those fools no more. Your partner will strengthen you in ways you cannot imagine," she paused, eyeing Theo before leaning in to kiss Harry tenderly. "I look forward to seeing the fuss you two make, and should you decide to keep your gift of parseltongue, there will be help for you within the conclave."

"Parseltongue? Isn't it a dark gift?"

Aradia glared at him. "It is a gift from Lady Magic herself! Rare and powerful and only given to the best of you." Harry cowered slightly at her display of power, and she huffed. "Those fools knew nothing." she turned in the circle. "Perhaps you will all join the conclave and get new educations from the World court." Aradia mused before she met Draco's eyes. "Yes, that's what you need. Leave England to them, but you and your wonderful friend," she indicated to Blaise, "will stay here in Italy and become part of the International stage. I've had enough of this foolishness, and you will correct the errors."

Draco bowed his head, "as our lady wills." Aradia beamed at him. "Always so polite young Dragon."

She crossed to stand in front of him, "I have missed you these last few nights." She stroked his cheek, lovingly, "While I understand why you could not come, I far preferred her company when she was happy and satisfied from her nights with you." 

"Will she return to me?" asked Draco.

Aradia's smile turned wistful. "I cannot say for sure. She is fearful and afraid but longs for you and the life she has tasted with you in the in-between." She met his eyes. "Should she not return, you will carry on with the task I have set for you." Draco swallowed and nodded. "You will not break from this loss, Young Dragon. You will surely miss her fire, but you will overcome it as you have so many times before. And if you are lonely," she moved her hand down his body, sending a shiver through him as she gripped his cock through his robe. "I will make sure you are well cared for in her absence." 

Draco closed his eyes as the Goddess worked his cock, making him hard despite himself. He nodded, "as you will."

Aradia smirked as she pulled her hand away from his hardened cock. "Oh, the things I would do to you, young Dragon," she mused, kissing the corner of his mouth. "There are so many pathways you could've explored. You were always meant to be together. Every pathway led you back together. To these people that support you or hinder you. Those meddlesome fools have hurt you so many times in so many ways on so many pathways."

"And this time?" Draco asked, regaining his composure. 

"This time was different. Will be different."

"And she will come back to me?"

"I cannot say," replied Aradia sadly. "Just know that in one pathway or another, you find your every happiness together."

"And that's supposed to be enough?" he scoffed.

"Yes," she replied simply. "It is." She ran her fingers over his sternum, in the same action that Draco himself did countless times in the past. She stepped back and summoned the sculpture of Hermione to the center of the ritual circle with a snap of her fingers. "Begin your ritual, young Warlock. What will be will be."

"Me?" Draco pointed to himself, "No. Pansy's leading the ritual."

"Not tonight. Tonight you must lead and call your love forth. Everyone else is here for support for you and her this evening."

Draco met Pansy's eyes across the space, and she nodded at him. Draco licked his lips as his eyes traveled back to Aradia. "And so it is." 

"So mote it be," said Aradia, and with a flash of magic, she was gone. 

Draco took a deep breath, letting it blow through his mouth loudly as he exhaled. He met the familiar brown eyes of his friends and the green eyes of his once archrival. No, he thought, shaking his head as he focused on Potter. Not his once archrival, tonight he was his love's brother. Family. His eyes traveled about the circle again. They were all family. 

He stepped into the circle, the runes on the floor lighting up as he crossed to where Hermione's sculpture stood in the center. He touched her cheek reverently before stepping back. "May magic bless our unified purpose," he breathed. With one last look to the light within the bluebell flame, he began the ritual in earnest, calling the magic of his family to him in the center of the circle and allowing it to boost his own magical prowess. 

***

Draco fell to the floor, panting. The ritual was everything he had come to expect but so much more. The power he had harnessed from Potter had been a boost he couldn't predict, but as Draco glanced about the circle noting his friends all on the floor or sagging, he knew it had been just as taxing on them as it had been on him. "Fuck Potter," he grumbled, "how did they never use your power for their rituals."

Theo nodded, crawling towards Harry. "You did wonderfully."

Harry blushed and nodded, leaning forward to kiss Theo. "That was incredible." He turned his eyes to Draco. "I've never felt anything like that." 

Draco smirked. "Don't worry, we'll get you trained up, and you'll be doing rituals of your own with Theo." Harry blushed again, giving Draco a shy smile before kissing Theo again. Draco couldn't help but be happy for his friend. 

"Drake."

Draco looked at Blaise and was surprised to find the black man's skin waxy and pale. Beside him, Pansy's eyes were filled with tears. "What?" 

"I'm so sorry, Mate." Draco's eyes widened at those four words, and immediately he turned to the sculpture. There in Hermione's hand where the bluebell flame was... Draco swallowed as bile rose in his throat. The flame no longer hummed and danced but remained dark and unmoving. Draco rubbed at his chest, willing the familiar feeling of Hermione's magic to flame to life to no avail. 

"Drake." 

"No," gasped Draco. "NO. NO!" He turned away from his friends, his magic exploding from his chest as the truth rained down on him. She hadn't picked him. She'd chosen to let go.

"No, you fucking stupid bint. You coward!" he screamed, standing. "You can't give up. You can't walk away. Salazar, damn you heartless bitch." Draco sank to his knees in front of the statue. His words mixed with tears as he sobbed for his soulmate. "You can't do this to me. Granger. Hermione. You can't." 

Draco pounded the ground beside the statue. "How could you?!" he screamed. "How could you not pick me? Not pick us? This? How could you leave me here without you?" 

He stood on his feet and looked at the statue. "Fuck you, Granger. Fuck you for making me love you. For reminding me of how wonderful things could be. Fuck you, you selfish, stupid cow." He raised his fist as if to hit her and paused. "This is why you left me," he mumbled, looking at his fist as if it was not part of himself. Something disgusting that he did not recognize... "Because I’m no better than him. No better than Weasley. I won't do it! I won't be like him." He lowered his fist. "But I won't let you stay here to taunt me. Fuck you, Granger." 

He turned to Pansy, "Bring me the hammer."

"No."

Draco scoffed as he glanced at the statue of Hermione. "No?" he laughed. "PANSY BRING ME THE HAMMER."

Pansy stomped her foot. "I'm telling you I won't." 

"She won't." He chuckled. He turned his eyes to Blaise, who shook his head and then to Theo. "I'm sorry, Mate."

"He's sorry. Of course, he is. Theo's got his match. Blaise has his match. Pansy's got her role." he spat.

"The Goddess gave you a command," countered Pansy.

"Fuck the Goddess. What's she going to do? SMITE ME?" 

Around him, everyone winced. "She can't hurt me any worse than Granger has," Draco spat. "She can't make me live with this pain! She can't force me to sit here day after day. What comfort is the occasional handjob or fuck from her when I've tasted paradise?" he railed. "NOW BRING ME A FUCKING TOOL SO I CAN SMASH THIS STUPID BINT TO SMITHEERNS."

"No," replied Pansy, Blaise, and Theo. Their voices echoing around him. 

"Can you believe this lot?" he asked, turning his attention to Harry. Only to swallow as Harry extended his hand to him, one of his tools resting in his open palm. "I didn't see a hammer," the other man began, "But this looked useful." 

Draco felt his lips quiver as he looked at the tool in Harry's hand. "The Granger," he whispered. Absently he wiped at a tear that had fallen across his cheek. He met Harry's eyes. "She wouldn't want you to be unhappy. Whatever reasons she has for not coming back. It wasn't cause she didn't love you or want you."

"how do you know that?"

"I don't," admitted Harry with a shrug of his shoulders. "But I'd like to think that whatever reason she has for not coming back, it wasn't because she wanted to hurt us."

Draco nodded mutely as he took the tool from Harry. "Is that true, sweetheart?" he asked, turning back towards Hermione. The tool glinting dangerously in his hands. "You didn't want to hurt us." He nodded. "Yeah, I can see that. You never tried to hurt the people you loved. But you didn't trust me enough to risk it. To want to be here with me. To come back. Did you not believe I would tear down this place and rebuild it for you?" He lifted his tear-stained face to look at her. This masterpiece that he created. "You aren't real," he breathed. "What we shared was just a dream. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever created, and I will never create anything as beautiful ever again."

With a wave of his hand, Draco erected a shield around the circle. Shielding his friends from the backlash of whatever would come next. He vaguely heard their shouts and noted their wands in their hands as they desperately tried to get into him. But it was too late. "It's just you and me now, sweetheart," he crooned to his sculpture. "It's just you and me, and neither one of us is walking out of here in one piece today."

He ran the blade of the tool against his palm, wincing as it cut deeply into his palm. He smirked. "Just as red as yours was that day," he mused. He lifted his eyes to peer at her. "Do you remember?" he asked. He gazed down at his palm again and blinked back tears as they fell into his palm.

"Aradia, Goddess of light," he recited, "Stand I naked in thy sight.” he gazed down at his hand. “May this blood mixed with tears, release the fire and ease thy fears." Carefully, he raised his bloodied palm to the statue's cheek and placed it there, rubbing it tenderly. His breath caught in his throat as memories flashed before his eyes. Not memories of the life they shared in this place, but the various pathways that could've been. Joy. Laughter. Marriage. Children. Celebrations. So many different ways could've been, and none of them were true for him at that moment. A sob wracked his chest as he slid once again to his knees, his hand trailed from her cheek, down her neck to her sternum. 

"My fire," he cried. "My heart. Hermione, please. I need you. I want you. Please, love. Please." Draco’s tears fell in earnest now, as the blood from his hand continued to trickle down the statue until it combined at the base. "It’s been you for as long as I can remember, Granger. I miss you, love. I don't want to say goodbye." 

"Shhhhhh, it's okay, love," Draco froze as he felt a hand rubbing his back in soothing circles. "You don't have to say goodbye, Draco. You could try saying hello." Draco's eyes snapped up, and he felt as if all the breath left him as he stared into familiar chocolate brown eyes. "Granger?"

"I prefer when you call me Hermione," she replied, her eyes twinkling. Her chin quivered as she stared at him, and Draco felt his tears falling in earnest. "Am I dead?"

"No," she replied with a laugh. 

"You're back? But you're light. It went out! You left me!" 

"No," she replied, cupping his face in her hands, "No, I choose you. Draco. I will always choose you. In this life and the next. You will always be it for me too."

Draco brushed a curl from her hair, noting the blood upon her face. "My prayer?"

Hermione nodded as she leaned her head into his palm, "You just had to finish the spell." 

"She could've told me that!" grumbled Draco. 

"I owe you nothing, young warlock," came a snooty voice behind him. Draco scrambled to his feet, putting himself between Hermione and Aradia. "Please," huffed Aradia, "I have no desire to take her from you."

"Then why did you do this?" he exclaimed.

"Because you must return to this path as equals," Aradia replied simply. "Two broken hearts now fully mended. A new pathway forged, a devious plot upended." 

Draco tilted his head in confusion and felt Hermione giggle behind him. "She's giving us her blessing."

"That does not feel like a blessing," he scoffed. 

Aradia smirked. "I'll let her explain it to you. Don't forget a handfasting to make it official, and a sex ritual...." her gaze moved about the circle. "an orgy would be welcomed."

"You are a pervert," stated Draco.

"You have no idea," hummed Hermione moving from behind him. She approached the Goddess and sank to one knee. "thank you for protecting me, Aradia." she waved Draco forward. He eyed the Goddess wearily as he moved and bent his knee like his soulmate. He wrapped an arm about her waist, holding her close lest Aradia had any more ideas. 

Aradia placed her hands upon each of their heads. "Remember the task I have set before you." she dipped slightly to cup their chins and lift their heads until they could meet her eyes. "And enjoy this second chance you have with another. This pathway will not be without its trials, but your love is strong, and your coven and conclave will assist you in this battle." She stroked both their cheeks. "Now, kiss."

Draco cupped Hermione's face and pulled her close, lowering his lips to hers as he had so many times before in the in-between. He sighed as he felt the pressure of her lips. Aradia had granted him his wish. She was here, and she was his.

Around them, his shield fell, and their friends surged into the circle. Wrapping their arms around them as they cried and cheered for joy. They would rebuild the world tomorrow, but for tonight, on Samhain, they would celebrate the return of the friend they thought they'd lost forever and praise the Goddess that had returned her to them.

_**Fin.** _

  
_**A/N: Thank you with all my heart for reading this fic. May the New Year bring you an abundance of blessings. xx the Wordsmith** _  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A/N Thank you for reading. Constructive comments and kudos are always welcome.


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